NEPALESE DEMOCRACY AND ITS DISCONTENTS
John Whelpton

[This paper was presented at the 2003 Kathmandu  `Agenda for Transformation' conference and slightly amended after King Gyanendra's February 2005 takeover.  Although in some respects overtaken by subsequent events, in particular the form of the compromise between Maoists and the constitutional political parties that led to the  overthrow of the monarchy and the emrgence of ethnic issues as a central issue in domestic politics, some of the general comments may still be valid. The essay may also be downloaded as a Word file from the button at the bottom of the page.  It is still hoped that the full conference proceedings will be published in Kathmandu by Himal Books]

Introduction

The literal meaning of `democracy' is `rule by the people', or, in other words, a political system in which ultimate authority is shared equally by all members of the community. In Nepal as elsewhere such a system is widely endorsed as a desirable state of affairs but there is no precise, shared understanding of what it implies in practice.  In Nepal, even more than in most other places, there is also a sense of deep disillusionment with what a system describing itself as democratic has actually achieved.  This paper aims to look briefly at the problem of definition , then to examine some of the reasons for disillusionment since the heady days of 1990, and finally to make some tentative suggestions on how the system could be made more responsive to the needs and aspirations of the Nepalese people as a whole. My perspective is  limited by the fact that I have never lived or worked for an extended period in the countryside where the majority of the population live. I have to rely on the reports of those who do have rural experience, on my own experience of life in the Kathmandu Valley, on discussions with politicians, journalists and academics and on the study of the documents produced by such people.  Mine is thus one view from the centre but it may perhaps complement contributions from others with deeper knowledge of particular sections of rural Nepal.

Models of democracy

At its loosest, `democratic’ is virtually a synonym for `fair’ or `reasonable.’  Some years before the end of British rule in Hong Kong, a Malaysian Chinese who had recently moved to the colony surprised me by saying how much more democratic her new home was than her old one. Malaysia, of course, had throughout her lifetime had a government chosen by universal suffrage. In contrast, Hong Kong’s governor was simply a British appointee and even today only a few hundred members of an electoral college have a say in the choice of Chief Executive. She explained, however, that tolerance of criticism of the authorities was greater in Hong Kong and that in Malaysia ethnic Chinese felt discriminated against by `affirmative action’ policies to aid the majority Malay population. The same facts would probably be very differently interpreted by a Malay beneficiary of UMNO’s policies, but the key point is the confusion which easily occurs between democracy as a form of government and the positive results which are expected to flow from it.[1]

If the focus is returned clearly to the mechanism for making political decisions, three main operational definitions of `democracy’ seem to be available. The first, which dominates mainstream political thinking in Western democracies, is the pluralist one, under which everyone is legally free to advance their own opinions and competition for support between different political parties aggregates the many conflicting interests, much as the free market aggregates preferences in the economic sphere.  

Critics on the radical Left do not always reject this conception completely but argue it cannot be true `rule by the people’ unless everyone is at the same starting line:

In a parliamentary democracy … you don’t redistribute the property, you just advocate free competition. Free competition among unequals is naturally in favour of the more powerful ones. When we perform this new democratic revolution we will immediately redistribute property. We will confiscate all landed property and redistribute the wealth among the poor. The political institutions may be the same. We believe in political freedom. We will have elections, but the elections so far have been dominated by money.[2]

Baburam Bhattarai’s argument (advanced some years before the start of the `People’s War’) has some force but it ignores the fact that democracies in Western countries do in fact redistribute wealth on quite a large-scale (more so, of course, in most European countries than in the U.S.A.) and that, even where considerable economic inequality exists, the dependence of wealthy contenders for power on the votes of their fellow citizens places a powerful weapon in the latter’s hands. More fundamentally, Bhattarai’s critique also ignores the reality that in any large and complex society, where not all decisions can be taken directly by the whole citizen body, power and influence are bound to be unevenly distributed. A successful revolution on the lines he described would inevitably leave those in commanding position within the revolutionary party and army in a stronger position than ordinary citizens, even if (as has generally not happened after Marxist-inspired revolutions) they were willing to allow their opponents freedom to organise politically.  Inequalities would not have been eliminated but they would be based  more upon `raw’ politico-military power and less on power mediated through money.[3]  Whatever the precise basis of the power-holders’ advantage, however, full freedom of political organisation and free elections opens up the possibility of significant change, since although those defending the status quo are able to delay the erosion of their privileges they cannot  postpone it indefinitely. A good illustration of the process is provided by the slow decline of upper-caste dominance in north India since universal suffrage was introduced in the early 1950s.  Democracy on these lines is not a utopian solution and is unlikely to produce instant transformation but, for units on the scale of present-day states, it does provide a framework within which change may be sought..

    A second model of democracy, contrasting with both capitalist and Marxist versions of the pluralist ones, is a system under which everyone taking an active part in the decisions affecting their own life through discussion, with voting as a last resort if consensus cannot be achieved. For direct democracy of this type a necessary (though not a sufficient) condition is that the units involved should be small, face-to-face communities, and thus its advocates normally also stress decentralisation and local autonomy.  On the assumption that some degree of centralisation is desirable, the direct democracy model cannot really replace the pluralist version but it can be applied at lower levels within a larger unit. In the Nepalese context it is most obviously applicable at settlement level, and particularly to ethnically homogeneous settlements where traditional decision-making procedures may in some ways approximate to it.  Even in multi-caste/multi-ethnic villages, there appears to have been a preference for consensual decision-making, subsequently superseded by the requirements of the Panchayat system and even more by those of multi-party democracy.[4]  The traditional system (even supposing we are justified of seeing this as a single system),was not of course as harmonious as sometimes supposed, since, even without the conflicts of interest between landlord and tenant or creditor and debtor, inter-personal conflicts could prove highly disruptive.[5]  One also has to beware of a seeming consensual decision which really only reflects the fact that a discontented minority feels unsafe in openly challenging the wishes of a dominant faction. Nevertheless, and despite misuse of `traditional’ structures as a buttress for royal autocracy before 1990, practice in rural Nepal has at its best provided a relatively conflict-free method of reaching decisions and this constitutes a potentially valuable resource. 

There remains a third model, which lacks logical coherence but retains a powerful grip on the imagination of many people. This seeks to resolve the practical difficulties outlined above by conceiving of `the people’ as if they were an entity with a single will and purpose. Such a notion figures in both liberal and Marxist rhetoric of democracy and arguably has some justification when a very large proportion of a population is united in, and overwhelmingly focussed on, a single cause, as was the case in the Kathmandu Valley at the climax of the janandolan. In ordinary times, however, `the people’ is a conglomeration of individuals and groups, boundaries between them shifting over time and from issue to issue.  The danger then is that the illusion of a single popular will is sustained by substituting for the fractious reality the policy of a smaller group, most typically a political party governing under a one-party system.  Democracy then becomes simply rule by the party with constant invocation of the name of `the People’, just as a theocracy is rule by a priesthood with constant invocation of the name of God.[6]   Although now Nepalese across the political spectrum  (including, at least intermittently, the Maoists) usually express commitment to a pluralist conception of democracy, the concept of a single popular will and the unique qualification of one’s own political faction to interpret it, still persists particularly on the Nepalese Left. Thus, it has often been suggested that under naulo janbad there might be a plurality of parties but that `reactionaries’ would be denied freedom to organise, with `the people’ deciding who the `reactionaries’ were. This view was widely held within the UML in the early nineties, and is still held by C.P.Mainali, long a dissident within the party but now leading his own splinter group.[7]  It also probably remains strong in the ranks of more radical groups such as the Unity Centre and Masal, now grouped together in the People’s Front and co-operating tactically with other parliamentary parties.  It is certainly also the preference of the Maoists, who broke away from the Unity Centre in 1994, though they may in the end feel obliged to work within a multi-party framework rather than return to civil war.[8] 

Nepalese democracy

The second and third models of democracy outlined above influence the thinking of many in Nepal, but at national level the country’s experience since 1990 has been of the first version. Disillusionment with the results grew throughout the 1990s and, since the royal take-over in October 2002, the system has been effectively in a coma. Argument still continues over whether it should be resuscitated or declared dead and a completely new beginning made but, after Gyanendra’s even more complete assumption of power in February 2005 and suspension of freedom of speech and assembly, a fresh start looks the more likely eventual outcome.   The reasons for disappointment with the working of the 1990 constitution stem partly from limitations inherent in the system itself, but more particularly from problems which afflict democracy in many developing countries and, finally, to the ambiguity over the control of state power resulting from the events of 1990-91.

At the most general level, pluralist democracies even when operating most successfully inevitably produce some discontent because of the gap between the aspirations bound up with democracy as a slogan and the actual results. Cynicism about politics and politicians is the norm even in countries where democratic institutions are fully secure and the standard of living far higher than in Nepal. The definition of `politician’ produced by Manjushree Thapa some years ago - `the epitome of all that’s worst about Nepal’ – brings to mind the American poet e.e.cummings’ offering in the 1920s: `A politician is an arse upon which everything has sat except a man.’  Disenchantment in Nepal has been worse because of the exhilaration which attended the end of the Panchayat system and perhaps also because of special features of the South Asian attitude towards power and those who seek it. It has been said of India, but applies to the wider region also, that  `authority is acceptable, but to struggle for a position of authority is not’[9], and that `authority … appears to be subject to much more abusive criticism and much more effusive adulation than one is accustomed to elsewhere’.[10]  The contrast between the rhetoric of self-sacrifice and family-like solidarity, which politicians themselves frequently espouse, and the reality of political competition is deeply felt. The longing for an authority figure able to cut through and transcend the struggle undoubtedly explains why many ordinary citizens in the Kathmandu Valley appeared to welcome Gyanendra’s action against party politicians in 2002 and 2005 and, arguably, is also part of the appeal of the Maoists with their personality cult of Prachanda.

In terms of actual results between 1990 and 2002, Nepalese democracy was a hybrid similar to that found in many developing countries, including much of Latin America and South-East Asia. It combined many of the positive features found in long-established democracies but these co-existed with grave failings even by the far-from-perfect standards of Western Europe or North America, let alone the ideal standards democracies everywhere aspire to.

The positive achievements were considerable, especially if one compares Nepal since 1990 with outright autocracies such as North Korea or with countries like Burma or Algeria which permitted free elections but then refused to abide by the results. Although this right of political association was slightly restricted by a constitutional ban on parties with communal or secessionist objectives, parties of this kind were in fact allowed to operate so long as those objectives were not made too obvious by their constitutions or insignia.   There were also genuine elections, even if abuses of the kind to be discussed below did occur.  The electoral process was clearly not a sham since a party in power could be voted out, as in fact happened to Congress in 1994 and would have happened again in 1999 had the UML not obligingly split in 1998. Supporting evidence is provided by opinion poll data which was normally not too far out of line with results of the election themselves and by the general trend of a gradual drift to the Left, which would have been more pronounced if the Maoists had not split from the United People’s Front in 1994 and moved outside the system (see Table).  Whatever cheating occurred affected the results at the margins and would not have prevented a UML-led Left-wing government coming to power had the Leftist parties managed to work together.

TABLE:  ELECTORAL SUPPPORT FOR CONGRESS AND LEFTIST PARTIES[11]

                              May 1991   May 1991       Nov 1994    Feb/March 1999   May 1999

                             (Sample)       (Election)     (Election)        (Sample)           (Election)

 Congress           43.5                   39.5                      34.5                     32.2                      37.2

 UML                  26.7                     29.3                  31.9                    31.9                       31.6

 [ML                             ----                 ----                   -----                         3.9                             6.6  ]

 UPF                      8.9                        5.0                    1.4                         ---                               0.9

 NPF                      ----                       ----                     ---                            ---                               1.4

 NMKP                 __                     1.3                     1.0                          ----                            0.6        

In addition, the period after1990 saw the development of a flourishing `civil society’ with expansion of the media and freedom to express opinions across the political spectrum. This was curtailed to some extent after the Maoists’ decision to attack the army in November triggered the first imposition of a state of emergency. However, even before the emergency was allowed to lapse, the braver sections of the media (including, of course, both HIMAL SOUTH ASIAN and Himal Khabar Patrika) continued to print stories that were embarrassing to the authorities.[12]

One can finally note the proliferation of interest- and concern-groups of all kinds. There is considerable cynicism amongst Nepalese intellectuals concerning the role of the multitude of NGOs, many of which are really private businesses rather than philanthropic or campaigning organisations.[13]  Nevertheless.  many of their critics have acknowledged that they can sometimes promote positive changes.  One particularly effective organisation has been BASE, whose influence at grassoots level has recently made them  a target  of the Maoists and whose work promoting literacy and political awareness amongst the western Tharus is particularly well-known. Their achievement in bringing about the formal abolition of kamaiya status was diminished by the government’s failure to make proper provision for the ex-kamaiyas  but this was nonetheless a positive step and their result in the adult literacy field have been very impressive. BASE is among a number of NGOs demonstrating that  it is not impossible to combine access to donor funds and a social conscience.[14]

Politics as organised crime?

 

Offsetting these achievements, however, and distorting the electoral process were widespread abuses, often involving outright criminality.  Intimidation, `booth capturing’ and ballot-rigging undoubtedly occurred and were highlighted by their depiction in Manjusree Thapa’s novel The Tutor of History. Just how extensive these abuses are is, of course, difficult to establish. As already argued, they do not totally invalidate Nepalese elections and it is in any case the defeated parties, naturally anxious to explain away their defeat, who were the most frequent source of complaints.  The scope for abuse was less in urban centres where the scrutiny of the media and `civil society’ is at its most intense. One enduring image from the 1999 election in Kathmandu is a photograph of the man who formed the post-election government, Krishna Prasad Bhattarai, being turned away from a polling station in Kathmandu because he had mislaid his identity card. Such scrupulous observance of the regulations was often absent in remoter areas and it is generally accepted that wherever a particular party had a preponderance of activists it would try to prevent opponents from exercising their rights.[15] A party in government was in the best position to exercise improper influence because it could make use of the administration and the police in addition to its own cadres.   It was alleged in 1994, for example, that the manipulation of recounts had derived the UML of a clear majority in 18 constituencies.[16]  It is also widely believed that the police were improperly used against ULF (Bhattarai) cadres in Rolpa in late 1995, some months before they launched the `People’s War’ in February 1996.[17]  Opposition groups, however, also certainly resorted to intimidation when they could get away with it, involving both parties’ own long-term activists and sometimes also hired goondas, whose role had long been important in areas across the Nepal’s southern border. The need to pay for such support in turn increased parties’ appetite for `black money’, even if individual politicians could resist the temptation to enrich themselves personally.[18]

Amongst many possible examples,  there were frequent reports of malpractice by UML workers in M.K.Nepal’s Rautahat constituency and violence erupted between factions within the UML’s own ranks on the eve of the 1998 split. Also, in 1991 Masal activists in Pyuthan barred Girija Koirala from campaigning in the district as well as preventing an NGO from carrying out an American-financed voter education project.[19] The Maoists’ turning their activists into a military force is in a way only an extreme manifestation of a tendency already present within the system.  Governments abusing  their powers and the Maoists resorting to armed rebellion bear the major responsibility but everyone on the political stage is to a certain extent the victim of a prevailing culture of abuse: if everyone believes the other side will not abide by the rules then nobody has an incentive to play fair themselves.

Politics as gang warfare is a reversion to the process by which states themselves most likely emerged.[20]

Within industrialised, democratic states the process has been largely superseded by rule-governed competition, even though the whole structure is underpinned by the state’s own monopoly of physical coercion and players may still enjoy advantages from their ancestors’ success at banditry.  However, the law of the jungle still largely prevails in the international arena and to an extent within countries like Nepal with a weak and contested state structure.  

Whilst operating in some ways as private armies, political parties can also absorb mutually-hostile local factions and in the process intensify that hostility.  In the 1991 election, it was noted that competition between national parties could easily mesh with factional politics within villages, as one group might adhere to a particular party to obtain support against a local rival.[21]  This process  was observed in at least one village in the Kham Magar area, with one clan supporting  Congress and the other the UPF/Maoists.  In the context of the `People’s War’, a dispute which might have been previously resolved within the village might escalate into the assassination of a rival as a `class enemy.’[22]  Whilst there has naturally been a tendency for richer individuals to gravitate to right-wing and poorer ones to left-wing parties, the rivalries involved need not always have been of a purely class nature, a problem which Chinese Communists had encountered long before in an extreme form:

: .. the deep-rooted divisions within the countryside meant that winning friends automatically risked acquiring enemies. The Chinese communists who established their rural Soviet areas in 1927-28 found, to their unjustified surprise, that converting one clan-dominated village helped to establish a network of  `red villages’ based on connected clans, but also involved them in war against their traditional enemies, who formed a similar network of `black villages.’ `In some cases,’ they complained, `the class struggle was transformed into the fight of one village against another. There are cases where our troops had to besiege and destroy entire villages.’ [23]   

       

Patronage and corruption The politics of intimidation were, as has already been seen, linked with the politics of patronage and corruption. The trading of political support for favours or protection will occur to some extent in any political system but is particularly pervasive in Third World polities. Both cadres and voters frequently sought immediate favours for themselves or their friends and relations in return for their support rather than opting for the party whose blueprint for the future of Nepalese society most appealed to them. Examples were villagers who sold their votes, the bus conductor who got his job through Congress connections and feared he would lose it when UML came to power, or the packing of the state intelligence services with cadres who did little other than draw their pay.[24]  Here again, the Maoists can be seen as a good example of the system in operation, as well as a reaction against it: their ranks certainly include people motivated by ideology or a desire for revenge against state excesses, but membership of the Lal Sena also ensures a regular income.[25] 

Among those who reach the highest levels the patronage game became of over-riding importance. The intensity of competition for ministerial office was partly the result of the increased opportunities for dispensing patronage that it provided, whilst even ordinary M.P.s .were able to play the game to some degree:  under a system introduced by the 1994-95 UML government, they .were each given control of a large block grant to spend as they saw fit on local development projects.  Parties also offered large financial inducements to individual M.P.s to tempt them into changing sides. Particularly notorious was the decision of two Congress M.P.s to absent themselves from parliament when a vote of no-confidence was brought against Sher Bahadur Deuba’s government in early 1997.

The patronage system is, of course, intimately linked to the problem of corruption. Politicians channeling favours to their supporters or collecting the funds to do so through `donations’ from private businessmen were acting in ways which both the law and much Nepalese public opinion regard as corrupt, even if some of these transactions might have been regarded as part of normal social practice in previous generations.  The exact scale of abuses of this kind at the apex of the system is difficult to determine, as is the extent to which corruption, already a much talked-about problem in the Panchayat years,[26] increased under the multi-party regime.  Tougher anti-corruption laws were enacted under the 2001-2002 Deuba government, and action was taken against a number of former ministers.  Even more radical action against corruption is expected from the Royal Commission set up after Gyanendra took over direct control of the administration in February 2005.  However, there were accusations that the selection of targets after Gyanendra’s )ctober 2002 `semi-coup’ was politically-motivated and, given the sweeping powers entrusted to the new commission, there are fears that abuses will increase in future.

Corruption has long affected day-to-day interaction between members of the public and the administration .In a 2003 survey by the Nepal chapter of Transparency International,  respondents reported having to pay bribes in 48% of transactions with the police and the courts and 25% of those with education, electricity and tax offices. A perception that the police were willing to side in disputes with the faction which offered them the largest bribes, together with their reputation for brutality, eased the task of Maoist insurgents in driving them out of many areas of the hills.[27]

Whether out of intimidation or in expectation of benefits, the ordinary voter may often be concerned to predict the outcome rather than to help determine it: the key consideration is to be on the right side of those in power. A desire to go with the winner can be a factor in democracies anywhere, but in a society like Nepal’s the band-wagon effect is stronger.  Local elections, for example are often seen by voters in the United Kingdom as an opportunity to register a protest against the government just as mid-term Congressional elections are likely to produce a swing against the party controlling the White House.   In contrast, Nepalese local elections produced comfortable majorities for the party in power at the centre, viz. Congress in 1992 and the UML in 1997.[28]  Improper influence on the conduct of the elections will have been part of the explanation, and also the Maoists’ campaign of intimidation against Congress candidates in 1997, but the desire to have better access to resources under control of the national government was of great importance.

Keen awareness of the `Back the Winner’ factor also appears to have been a key element in stances currently taken on the constituent assembly issue.  In principle, elections to a constituent assembly, if not preceded by the kind of redistributionary measures Baburam Bhattarai called for in his 1990 interview (p.2 ), might be just as likely as parliamentary elections to go in favour of `reactionary forces’ , as some Left-wing commentators  pointed out.[29]  The Maoists’ insistence on this issue partly reflects the fact that it was an original objective of the 1950/51 movement against the Ranas, but at the present moment it is the demand’s symbolic value that is probably more important. Simply because the Maoists’ have been demanding it for so long, securing it would be a signal to the country that they were now setting the agenda. For precisely the same reason, the two major parties were unhappy with the idea and wished to preserve the constitutional order achieved through the 1990 people’s movement that they themselves had headed.[30]  It is only after the royal takeover and the setting aside of that order that a significant numbers of people within the UML and Congress warmed to the constituent assembly proposal and even now (March 2005), with the younger generation of  even Congress activists increasingly tending to republicanism,  much sentiment in the two parties still probably remains opposed.[31]  The same logic of needing to be seen to be in control of events would most likely see the king attempt to have the monarchy itself omitted from the scope of the constituent assembly’s deliberations.

 

Ethnic and caste issues

The paradoxical fact about ethnic and caste identity in Nepal is that it is of great importance in day-to-day interactions between individuals but that, as an issue in national politics it has generally been much less important. This is in the first place because the sheer number of different groups in Nepal makes co-operation across ethnic and caste boundaries vital for effective action at almost any level. Secondly, especially before the advent of mass literacy, villagers have naturally seen themselves as members of a face-to-face, localised group rather than of one dispersed over the whole country: the ethnic community (as portrayed in census statistics) is as much an imagined community as the nation itself.  Against this background, during the Panchayat era representatives of different groups predominant in a particular area were frequently co-opted into the system but they were content to accept patronage and control from the national, high-caste (and particularly Thakuri) elite centred round the monarchy,  The pattern to some extent perpetuated that which had existed before 1950.

    Political mobilisation on the basis of ethnicity was not entirely absent, however.  Limbu solidarity, partly cause and partly result of the long survival of kipat tenure in their area of the eastern hills, has been a significant factor throughout most of Nepal’s history as a unified state.   Modern-style ethnic activism arguably emerged in embryonic form shortly before the end of the Rana regime with the establishment of the Tharu Welfare Society in 1950, or even earlier with stirrings of Newar cultural assertiveness in the 1920s. Such activities were curtailed under the Panchayat system but began reviving around the time of the 1980 referendum and, after introduction of direct elections to the Rastriya Panchayat, the need for candidates to appeal to a mass electorate arguably made ethnic (and also caste) considerations more salient .[32]    At the same time, whilst the Parbatiya and Newar upper castes remained dominant in Panchayat politics, increased efforts were made to co-opt members of other groups and though was largely still confined to lower levels there were also some more senior appointments.[33] 

With the return of fully competitive politics in 1990, the pattern of co-option was continued, particularly  at the grassroots level in the political parties.[34]   However, freedom of organisation and the fact that there was no single centre of power  (the palace) as a source of patronage encouraged ethnic activists to become more assertive. In particular, demands for affirmative action policies (reservations)[35] and for the use of minority mother tongues become increasingly  insistent and have, at least in principle, won a degree of acceptance across the political spectrum: `positive discrimination’ to redress the under-representation of the janjati (as well as of women and Dalits) was one of the general promises made by Gyanendra’s royalist cabinet in February 2005, and, unlike the takeover itself, it was non-controversial.

         The degree of under-representation differs greatly from group to group.and incorporation has generally gone furthest with non-Parbatiyas longest associated with the Shah dynasty (viz. Gurungs and Magars). In contrast the Tamangs, the group with the highest figure for mother tongue retention of any of the non-Parbatiya hill groups, remain particularly marginalised.[36]  The same applies to the Kham Magars (linguistically distinct and less assimilated than the southern Magars) whose territory forms part of the Maoist heartland and who provided many of the rank-and-file fighters in the early days of the insurgency.

Although their problems have, at least until recently, received relatively little attention, the Dalits, who come at the bottom of the traditional hierarchy as codified in the 1854 Muluki Ain, are still the group most strongly discriminated against. It is significant that janajati representation in parliament has not been grossly out of line with the janajati proportion in the total population, whereas the 1999 House of Representatives contained no Dalits at all.[37]   Attempts to mobilise Dalits to improve their condition also date back to late Rana times, with the advancement by some members of the Bishwakarma section of the Kami caste, largest of the untouchable groups, of a claim to  tagadhari status.  However, their action was viewed with suspicion by members of other untouchable castes and  a feeling that the Bishwakarmas are pursuing a hegemonic agenda of their own has continued to complicate efforts to create a united Dalit movement.[38]  The tendency for Dalit organisations to splinter and to accept patronage (and some degree of control) from one of the political parties has also been a factor in this.[39]

In the Western hills, the most backward part of the country, Dalits are traditionally known as Doms and make up 38% of the population.[40] In much of this area, there are virtually no non-Parbatiya groups and the cleavage between the Doms and the `pure’ Parbatiya castes is a particularly stark one.  The Deuba government’s call in 2001 for the Dalits’ admittance to temples had some success in the east but reportedly met with strong resistance in the far western districts, from which Deuba himself comes.[41]  Ten years previously, a Congress candidate in the Bhajang constituency had readily admitted to exploiting high-caste feeling against them by branding his Communist opponents `the party of Doms’.  The result will presumably have been to reinforce the Doms’ own Leftist allegiance and over the country as a whole they appear particularly responsive to Communism in general and to the Maoists in particular.

In the Dalits’ case, of course, caste status coincides closely with economic status: at village level they are often the poorest as well as the lowest in ritual status. [42]  Controversies over the relative importance of class or ethnic differences sometimes obscure the point that it is when the two sets of cleavage overlap that the potential for conflict is often particularly high.  Thus tensions between Tharus and Parbatiyas have been particularly high in the Dang area, where tenants are normally Tharu and landlords, whilst the violence in the old `West No.1’ district in 1960 involved poor Tamangs against Parbatiya landlords or money-lenders.  

It is still fair to say, however, that, at least for the moment, the ethnic aspect is not the central one because of the integration of  local bocks into larger organisations that have a multi-caste and multi-ethnic make-up.  Striking instances of  this are  provided by both the government and the Maoists.  Tagadharis are at the apex in both cases: the king and the Shaha-Rana aristocracy around him versus the Brahmans Pushpa Kumar Dahal (`Prachanda’) and Baburam Bhattarai. At the same time there are. ethnic minority members in important support roles, notably (at the time of the 2003 ceasefire) the government negotiator, Narayan Singh Pun, and his fellow Magar,, the Maoist military strategist Ram Bahadur Thapa (`Badal’).[43] The rank-and-file in both the army and the Maoists’ guerilla force are a mixture of different castes, with members of the same family sometimes on opposing sides.[44]  There still remain, of course, the two most obvious lines of cleavage between the Parbatiyas and the Tibeto-Burman groups in the hills and between hillmen generally and the tarai populations of recent Indian origin, but the heterogeneity of the groups concerned has prevented any real coalescence.  The more important dividing line is an economic one, with many of the better-off in the hills still being the descendants of the families favoured by Kathmandu since the foundation of the state. Such families tend to be from the higher castes but this is certainly not exclusively so and while economic divisions may correspond closely in some local areas with ethnic ones, this is not so over the country as a whole. The same fundamental problems are affecting all groups to a greater or lesser degree: increasing population; a limited and unevenly distributed resource base; competition from more efficient producers outside the country;  and growing numbers of young people educated sufficiently to aspire to something beyond a marginal existence on the land but not able to find employment meeting those aspirations.

The legacy of 1990  

All of the above factors could be paralleled in many other countries, or (as far as ethnic and caste factors are concerned) with other parts of South Asia. In Nepal they are complicated by the balance of power that emerged from the 1990 janandolan. Whilst the civil administration (including the police) was under the control of the elected government, the army’s constitutional position was ambiguous. It was formally under the command of the king, who was supposed to act in military matters on the recommendation of the National Defence Council, consisting of the prime minister, the defence minister (a portfolio normally retained by the prime minister) and the army’s own chief of staff. In practice, senior army officers continued to look to the palace, as they had done before 1990.[45]  Any group organising armed resistance to the civil administration could therefore hope to exploit this situation as did indeed happen with the Maoist revolt.[46]

Opinions differ on how far Birendra (or his advisors) deliberately engineered this situation during negotiations over the drafting of the constitution, but both royal control of the army and the palace’s ability to exercise influence in other ways would  have mattered less had the political parties been able to forge a broader consensus on the rules of the game. In fact, even groups who were in principal committed to the eventual establishment of a republic were willing to make tactical use of the monarchy and nobody wanted the king’s power to disappear unless there was a probability that they themselves would be the one’s to fill the resulting power vacuum.  Thus the element of discretion retained by the king in deciding whether to grant a prime minister’s request for the dissolution of parliament was apparently accepted by the UML during the drafting stage because they correctly anticipated that Congress would win the first general election. When Koirala did obtain a dissolution in 1994, many parties across the spectrum called for his caretaker administration to be replaced by a multi-party government.  Baburam Bhattarai’s section of the Sanyukta Jana Morcha refused to back the demand, arguing that this would give the monarchy a chance to become actively involved in politics once more. Ironically, the Maoists themselves began calling for a multi-party government and their own violent campaign was the single most important factor in bringing the monarchy back to the centre of the political stage.

One additional legacy of the janandolan was to boost the attraction of extra-systemic protest. If mobilising crowds on the street has once forced political change, people in general (and political activists in particular) will be more ready to use similar tactics again rather than revert to the less dramatic channels of constitutional politics.  This was clearly seen in the results of a 1991 opinion poll, which showed much greater tolerance of different means of `direct action’ than in western democracies, and even a significant minority prepared to countenance armed revolt.[47]  Once again the Maoists have provided an extreme example of a general tendency, whilst the constant resort to bands and similar types of agitation by many factions, particularly on the Left, is another manifestation of it.  There were, of course, always plenty of unemployed people available to act as `enforcers’, even where, as was certainly the case in the Kathmandu Valley, there was little enthusiasm for the protests among the general population.  Relief at the curtailing of such activities partly explains why many people in the Valley initially welcomed  Gyanendra’s state of emergency in February 2005.

Another contributor to this volume, has argued that the band  is a reasonable way of putting pressure on a generally unresponsive government .[48]  It is true that the right to protest publicly s an important one and that some disruption has to be accepted as the price for this. However, in Nepal’s case, the cost to society as a whole have clearly outweighed the benefits (though, like corruption, it might bring benefits to particular individuals or groups)  and such protests have been particularly reprehensible because of the way they involve coercion of those not wishing to take part: the minority of those who stayed off  the roads or closed their place of business did so out of fear of the organisers’ retaliation, not out of sympathy with the protest. Even without taking into account the Maoist `blockades’ now periodically afflicting much of the country, the resort to intimidation by so many different groups  made it clear that it was becoming more and more entrenched as part of the country’s political culture.  The  pogrom organised by Hindu extremists  after the murder of Nepalese migrant workers Iraq Nepalese workers in Iraq resulted partly from what Pradeep Giri’s termed the `culture of impunity’  generated in the course of earlier protests.

What is to be done? Surveying the problems that beset the Nepalese state is a relatively easy task. Suggesting immediately applicable remedies is considerably more difficult and I certainly do not claim to have any magic formula to offer.  General suggestions such as a greater spirit of co-operation and compromise are valid but difficult to translate into concrete actions that can be taken at once by particular actors. What follows is a rather miscellaneous list but one or two of the points raised may evoke some response.[49]

It is often suggested that the only true solution to Nepal’s political malaise is the improvement of social and economic conditions and, in the long-term, this is true. The immediate need, however, is for a political framework within which social and economic needs can be addressed.  Since spontaneous co-operation cannot do the job alone, the provision of such a framework is in the first place the responsibility of the state, which should be strong enough to enforce the rules but also willing to abide by them itself. To some extent there has to be a trade-off between the two objectives – the only way to be totally certain that the police or army never abuse their power is not to have any police or army at all – but in Nepal, as in many other countries, the state too often fails on both counts.  The state needs both to be strengthened to resist extra-constitutional challenges – in particular armed rebellion – but also to become more responsive to demands made through ordinary political process. Revision of the constitution itself, whether or not by means of a constituent assembly, may be necessary but rather more important will be the determination of a sufficient number of people to abide by the rule of law.

Generating such a consensus has been made even more difficult - yet also more urgent –since Gyanendra’s assumption of total political control and his crack-down even on peaceful dissent. Power in the urban areas now rests entirely in the hands of  Gyanendra and of the army, whilst throughout most of the rest of the country the situation is best described as anarchy with the local Maoist commanders in the strongestr position, except when the army chooses to occupy particular points in strength.  It is very difficult to see how the continuing downward slide can now be stopped without firm action by the international community – and primarily by India.

For very good reasons, neither the Indians nor any other outside power want a Maoist takeover in Kathmandu (whether or not India earlier on colluded with Maoist activities to further strengthen is own position vis-a-vis  the Nepalese government is, of course, a different issue.)  Outside actors will therefore need to use a combination of carrot and stick to bring the non-Maoist forces into some kind of alignment so that they can adopt an agreed negotiating position towards the Maoists whilst building up structures at village level strong enough to counter (and hopefully later co-opt) the Maoist ones.

          Because of the central position that the RNA now had in Nepalese politics – thanks, in the first place to the Maoists and in the second to King Gyanendra – the issue of  who controls it will be the central one in negotiations both amongst the non-Maoist force and then in peace talks with the Maoist themselves. For the longer term, it must be answerable to the cabinet, as is normally the case in countries with a parliamentary system.  Assuming that Nepal remains a monarchy (and there must now be a question-mark over the survival of both the monarchy and also of Nepal itself as a state with any real independence), there is no reason why the king should not remain the nominal commander-in-chief but he should act in that capacity on the government’s advice.   The army needs to be well-equipped and, more importantly, better trained. Its use for internal security duties should be a last resort but it should be brought in immediately if protestors or insurgents are strong enough to drive the police force out of an area. If called upon to act, it should be able to counter attacks of the kind made on many district headquarters over the last few years but not to use force out of panic or vindictiveness against the general population. There need to be clear rules of engagement, as is the case with, for example, British forces in Northern Ireland, and individuals would be liable to punishment for failure to comply with them. As Indian experience has shown, armed force alone has sometimes been able to contain rebellion, but the agents of a democratic state should abide by the norms accepted by democracies across the world.

Even more than the army, the police are poorly equipped, badly trained and underpaid.  Most fundamentally, as has already been said, they are widely perceived as corrupt and as serving the immediate political ends of the government (or of whoever has bribed them sufficiently) rather than addressing the security needs of the society around them.[50]  Arguably, their status as a (highly inefficient) centralised paramilitary force makes it more difficult for them to gain public support and the American or British model of separate, locally recruited forces should perhaps be considered. There could still be some equivalent of the Indian Central Reserve Police but this would only be used to provide support in special circumstances and the central government’s main role would be to set general principles within which each local force had to operate and to conduct inspections from time to time. There would also be some degree of supervision by local government but, to guard against factional influence entering under the guise of `community control’ day-to-day decisions would be made by the police themselves with reduced scope for political interference. None of this would entirely remove tensions from the relationship of the police with some sections of the community but it should be possible to reduce them. 

Opportunities for playing the patronage game could also be reduced in other areas of government. To protect the integrity of the electoral process the election commission’s role could be strengthened, whilst resource distribution – whether jobs, cash grants or anything else – should as far as possible be allocated according to predetermined rules. Where the application of objective criteria identifies a large number of people equally deserving a particular benefit, the use of some form of lottery could be considered in order to make the final selection.[51]  Arrangements such as entrusting each M.P. with a `pot of gold’ to finance development work should be ended, whilst hiring and promotion decisions in the bureaucracy might be made by interview boards from which those holding office at any level in political parties were excluded. Ministers would retain a say in appointments at the highest level but not in personnel decisions lower down the bureaucracy.[52]

Confidence in the system could also be increased by boosting the monitoring role of the Commission for Investigation of the Abuse of Authority. There is a problem here, however, of `who monitors the monitors?’ since, as has already been seen, there have been accusations of political bias in the selection of candidates for investigation and there are currently fears of greeter potential for abuse in Gyanendra’s new Royal Commission.[53]. A strict rule requiring the commission to investigate thoroughly any complaint laid before it could help here. The possession of wealth out of proportion to one’s known income is, of course, already grounds for investigation but it could, as in Hong Kong, also be made an offence in its own right, with the onus on an individual in public service to explain the source satisfactorily. Legislation could also be passed requiring parties to declare the source of all donations from companies and private individuals above a specified level.  Unless party political activity is funded directly by the state, a major proportion of the money needed for fighting elections must come from the private sector but the electorate do have the right to know who is giving what to whom.

Since the issue of corruption has been so important in the delegitimisation both of the Panchayat and of  the post-1990 parliamentary system, it may be worth discussing at some length the role of the CIAA’s counterpart in Hong Kong,  the Independent Commisssion against Corruption (ICAC).  The ICAC’s original establishment thirty years ago was the result of two main factors. First, a grassroots campaign against corruption, and particularly over a spectacular case involving a senior expatriate police official who had been heavily involved in the `protection’ racket then operated by the police over most of the territory.[54] Second, the determination of a new governor, Sir Murray Maclehose, to take a less relaxed attitude to endemic corruption than had his predecessors. The colonial system was at this time unashamedly authoritarian but, despite its failings, still enjoyed a measure of legitimacy since so many of its inhabitants were grateful to have escaped the excesses of Maoism in mainland China. However, although the setting up and empowering of the ICAAC was facilitated by this authoritarian

         Whereas Nepal’s CIAA has focussed mainly on allegations of corruption against senior politicians and bureaucrats,[55] the corresponding institution in Hong Kong, the Independent Commission against Corruption (ICAC) deals with abuses at all levels and also within the business community.  The initial wave of investigations targeted so many people that police officers staged a mass protest against it. The Hong Kong government decided to offer amnesty for all offences committed before the ICAC came into existence, but, although this initially dented the credibility of the new body, it has since had considerable success in reducing corruption in all sectors of society.  Whilst  Hong Kong is not as `clean’ as the ICAC’s public relations suggest, syndicated corruption within the police force seems to have been eliminated  and small-scale police corruption is perhaps less of a problem than in London’s Metropolitan Police.[56]  

 `Decentralisation’ has long been a rallying cry in Nepalese politics, figuring both in the rhetoric of the Panchayat system and in that of present-day Maoists.[57]  Because so many who use the slogan have proved in fact to be avid centralisers a degree of scepticism is quite understandable, but potentially it presents an opportunity to come closer to the ideal of direct democracy (the second model discussed above) whilst retaining pluralist representative democracy (the first model) as the framework at national level. What is needed is very careful thought on the size and shape of the smaller units needed and on which issues are best dealt with at which level. It has been suggested, for example, that devolving power to actual physical settlements, rather than the arbitrarily delimited Village Panchayat/Village Development Committees, would allow a degree of ethnic autonomy on a cantonal basis.[58] Use of this geographical criterion would reduce the dangers of reinforcing fluid ethnic boundaries by basing rights directly on ascribed ethnic identity.  

At an intermediate level, district boundaries might, as advocated by Tony Hagen and others, be redrawn to follow ridgelines rather than rivers, thus producing more economically and socially integrated areas. Real devolution at this level would also make it easier for parties with strong support within a small area to implement some of their programmes.  If the Italian and French Communist parties could run local governments whilst Italy and France were allies of the USA in the Cold War, some form of de facto co-operation between groups with widely diverse ideologies should not be impossible in Nepal. There area range of policy issues where there is no real need for a uniform solution across the country. In many countries, for example, the question whether to allow the public sale of alcohol is decided by referendum at local level: at least one brand of American whisky is not sold in the town that houses the distillery because the local citizens voted to go `dry.’  Similarly, in the field of education, the central government might, for example, lay down that all schools must teach Nepali, English and one additional language, and local government, or even individual schools, could decide whether the third should be Sanskrit, Limbu or, for that matter, Chinese.[59]

For government at national level, consideration also needs to be given to changing from the first-past-the-post system employed in India, the USA and the UK to some form of proportional representation as found in most European democracies. This issue was raised by the political scientist Chitra Tiwari during the run-up to the 1991election and found little support,[60] but interest in it seems to have increased since then, particularly on the Left: had the 1999 election been held on a PR basis the UML and ML would have together obtained more seats than Congress.  With Nepal’s unhappy experience during the 1994 hung parliament in mind, many would still argue that the present system is more likely to produce a clear-cut result and avoid the need for unstable coalitions. However, the splits that have occurred in Congress and in the UML (not to mention the smaller parties) suggest that a single party government is itself an unstable coalition, though temporarily disguised. Given the electoral arithmetic over the past twelve years (see Table on pg. 4), single-party governments are elected with the support of only just over a third of the electorate and, in a highly polarised political environment, imposing their own policy agenda through their parliamentary majority may not be practicable. An extreme example of this knd of problem is provided by the experience of Chile, where the Marxist President Allende, elected by just 36% of the voters, was eventually overthrown by the army after his policies had alienated the centrist forces that had earlier on given him conditional support.  A constitutional system which forced Allende to make compromises with other parties would have prevented his adopting some of his own policies but would also have spared the country the Pinochet dictatorship.

Whatever the merits of moving to full PR, there is also a case for helping smaller parties by removing the requirement that they must have gained the support of 3% of the electorate to retain recognition as a national party at the next election.  It may be going to far to suggest that the Bhattarai faction of the UPF would have stayed within the electoral system if they had retained such recognition after the 1994 split,[61]  but removing the impression that the system is being rigged in favour of the larger parties would help encourage minorities to work within the system.

Agreement on changes of the kind outlined above, even if achieved, would not automatically solve the very fundamental problem of the prevailing political culture. Again as in other parts of south Asia, Nepalse politics has been marked by an extreme tendency to factionalism and an unwillingness to accept arrangements which do not put oneself or one’s own group at the centre of the picture. The split between the Girija and Deuba factions within the Nepali Congress is the most conspicuous example but that party had usually before 2002 been able to avoid going over the brink. The Nepalese Left, on the other hand, has been subject to so many splits, mergers and re-splits that probably no one has been able to keep a proper track of them all.[62]  In this, as is so many other respects, the Maoists are a good example of the disease they are purporting to cure. Despite the fact that a united Left would have been electorally stronger than Congress, Prachanda and Bhattarai’s faction were unwilling to work as a junior partner within such a broad alliance.  The justification offered has, of course, been that they alone are the guardians of the true Leftist faith but one must ask how far that is the real explanation and how far they were simply unwilling to accept subordination to the UML in a broad Leftist alliance or alarmed that Nirmal Lama and the old Fourth Convention group might get the upper hand in the UPF.[63]  However even if  one grants for the sake of argument that the Maoists, and Nepalese politicians in general, have been motivated only by considerations of the national interest, the result has still been an unwillingness to compromise which would render almost any system unworkable.

As well as a greater willingness to work with those whose ideology is similar though not identical to one’s own, there could also be greater co-operation right across the political spectrum on issues where, at least in theory, there is a general consensus. A prime candidate here is the continuing problem of caste discrimination. The Deuba administration made a start on this with the campaign against untouchability mentioned earlier but this, like many of the grand proposals of summer 2001, has not really been followed up. The refusal to admit Dalits to ordinary social contact with their fellow-citizens should in theory be easy to address since it does not involve difficult questions of the distribution of resources and if the easy part cannot be tackled, what hope is there for the rest? There is scope for co-operation here involving both the political parties now on the sidelines of the political stage and the king presently at the centre. Would it not be possible, for example, for local leaders of parties to accompany Dalits into previously forbidden shrines and to repudiate caste taboos by dining publicly with them? When the king attends `felicitation meetings’ across the country could he not address the question directly and then ceremonially accept and eat boiled rice from a Dalit in front of the thousands who have been listening to him?[64]

If those active in politics are to make progress in any of these areas they will need to be put under a certain amount of pressure.  To some extent this is a task for those who exercise influence on Nepal from outside the country, whether as representatives of states or of international organisations. For better or worse they do possess some leverage over those who are, or aspire to be, in authority inside the country and it is currently hard to see anything other than outside pressure that can reverse the additional damage done by Gyanendra’s actions in February 2005.  Over the long term, however, there is a more important role for those in Nepal with a deep interest in the country’s problems but who are not themselves directly competing for political power. They may be ordinary members of political parties or simply trying to promote particular causes and, as Deepak Gyawali argued before temporarily leaving the NGO sector to accept an appointment as minister in Gyanendra’s 2002-3 cabinet, activism of this type is needed to balance those engaged in politics primarily because they see it as their career.  If war is too important to be left to the generals, then politics is certainly too important to be left to the professionals.[65]

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS:  I wish to thank the public figures in Nepal who have allowed me to interview them over the last few years. I am also grateful to participants in the Social Science Baha `Agenda for Transformation’ conference for their valuable comments on an earlier version of this paper.

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NOTES

[1] Pre-1997 Hong Kong is cited by Fareed Zakaria (`The Rise of Illiberal Democracy’, Foreign Affairs, No.76, Nov/Dec 1997, p.29) to illustrate the difference between freedom and democracy. He interprets the latter simply as a system of government involving competitive elections but, while freedom of speech is possible without democracy, democracy is not possible without a degree of freedom of speech and of political organisation, without which elections would be meaningless.

[2] Interview with Baburam Bhattarai,, 8/9/1990. See Martin Hoftun et al., People, Politics and Ideology, Kathmandu: Mandala, 1999, p.239.  In the context of Nepal, with its constitutional monarchy and strong influence from the Indian and British systems, Bhattarai naturally refers to `parliamentary democracy’, but his argument would apply equally well to a `bourgeois’ democracy with a strong, executive presidency on French or American lines.

[3] Hence the argument often made that communist revolutions in the last century represented in a way a reversion to pre-capitalist structures rather than a transcending of the limitations of capitalist ones. See, for example, Ernest Gellner, Conditions of Liberty: Civil Society and its Rivals, London: Hamish Hamilton, 1994, p.206.

[4] In the village panchayat in Ilam studied by Lionel Caplan, candidates were elected unopposed in every ward in the first elections, local people feeling that contested elections would `show our quarrels’. The panchayat normally reached decisions by consensus, with local `notables’ also attending the meeting. But there was an increasing realisation that a dominant faction could if it wished push through its own agenda by majority vote and then denounce its opponents as anti-Pasnchayat if they tried to block its implementation (Caplan, Land and Social Change in Eastern Nepal, 2nd.ed., Kathmandu: HIMAL, 2000, p.159-62}

[5] Cf Barrington Moore, Jnr, Social Origins of Democracy and Dictatorship, Harmondsworth: Penguin University Books, 1973 p.498, 502

[6] It is, of course, conceivable that in particular circumstances a society’s best interests might be served by one political party’s authoritarian rule, just as they might be served by colonial rule. The point is simply that such a system should not be called `democracy.’ Much better is the cheerful honesty of a Cuban  communist who, when taxed about the restrictions on political activity in his homeland, replied, `Sure, Fidel ‘s a dictator but he’s a good dictator.’

[7] Mainali, broke away with Bamdev Gautam in 1998 to form the CPN(ML). He refused to follow Gautam back into the UML in 2002 and has now re-constituted the ML on his own. For UML views in the aftermath of the janandolan, see John Whelpton, `The General Elections of May 1991,’ in Michael Hutt (ed.), Nepal in the Nineties, New Delhi: OUP,  1993, p.55-57.   C.P.Mainali’s views are briefly outlined in Hoftun et al., p.241 and more fully by Krishna Hachhethu (Party Building in Nepal: Organization, Leadership and People, Kathmandu: Mandala, 2002, p.177), who tabulates their points of difference from rival UML positions.  Mainali himself confirmed to me two years ago that he still believes that a ruling communist party should exercise overall supervision of other permitted parties as currently occurs in China (interview, Kathmandu, 26/7/2001)., 

[8] An anonymous reviewer of this paper pointed out that `invoking the people’ (i.e claiming that one’s own decisions are made in  the name of and on behalf of the people) is a rhetorical exercise common across the political spectrum and cannot therefore be regarded as a distinct `model’ of democracy or linked specifically with the Left. However, whilst it is certainly true (as already pointed  out in the main  text) that this concept of `democracy’ is a flawed one, the concept does appear to have a particularly strong hold on a section of the Left. The ascription of agency to classes rather than to individuals in some varieties of  Marxist theory makes it easier to slip into  this way of thinking and rule by the people in this abstract sense is surely the only meaning that can be ascribed to the word `democratic’ in the names of former East European communist regimes such as the German Democratic  Republic – such states were very clearly not democratic in either the pluralist or the `direct democracy’ sense.

[9] Myron Weiner, `Struggle against Power: Notes on Indian Political Behaviour’, World Politics, 8 (April 1956), p395, quoted in Robert L.Hardgrave, Jnr., & Stanley A.Kochanek, India: Government and Politics in a Developing Nation, Orlando, Florida: Harcourt Brace Jovanovitch, 1993, p.167.

[10] W.H.Morris-Jones, Parliament in India, London: Longmans, Green, 1957, p.34, quoted in Harcourt & Kochanek, p.167-8.

[11] General election figures are the official ones for percentages of total valid votes cast as tabulated by Karl-Heinz-Krämer. For fuller discussions of the three general elections see Whelpton, `General Election of May 1991,’ Hoftun et al., p.200-207 and John Whelpton, `Nine years on: the 1999 election and Nepalese politics since the 1990 janan­dolan.' European Bulletin of Himalayan Research, no.17, 1999. p.1-39, but note that vote percentages are calculated there on the basis of total valid and invalid votes cast and so differ slightly from those used here. The May 1991 sample survey was carried out by the Political Science Association of Nepal to coincide with the election (see Ole Borre et al., Nepalese Political Bahaviour, New Delhi: Sterling, 1994, p.169)  The 1999 sample figures are from the ORG-HIMAL poll as reported in Spotlight , 23/5/1999

[12] Even after the more stringent censorship imposed after  Gyanendra’s complete takeover on 1 February 2005, these and some other publications continued to test the limits and printed implict criticism of the royal move.

[13] For a highly critical view, see Saubhagya Shah, `Development critique – From evil state  to civil society’  HIMAL November 2002, p.10-17 and a more sympathetic one,  Celayne Heaton Shrestha, `NGOs as thekadars or sevaks: identity crisis in Nepal’s non- governmental sector’ European Bulletin of Himalayan Research. No.22: 5-36, 2002.  Whilst stressing the primacy of politcal action, many Leftists accept that these organisations have a contribution to make. See for example, Bishwakarma, Hira,  `Dalit Andolanma ENJIOharuko Bhumika’  (esp. p.356-8)  and Bishwakarma, Padmalal. `Kina Uthna Sakena Ekikrit Dalit Andolan?’ (p.311) in Onta et al. (eds.),  Chapama Dalit, Kathmandu: Ekta Books, 2001/02. In  contrast, the Maoists generally see NGOs as a diversion into reformism of popular energy that should be fuelling the class struggle and reacted with great hostility the more nuanced views of Marxist critic Khagendra Sangraula in his novel  Junkiriko Sangit , Kathmandu: Bundi-Puran Prakashan, 1999 (see Pratyoush Onta, `Democracy and Duplicity’, in M.Hutt (ed.), Himalayan `People’s War’, London: Hurst, 2004.)

[14] For differing perspectives on BASE’s role, see Fujikura (2001), Gisèle Krauskopff, `An `Indigenous Minority in a Border Area; Tharu  Ethnic asociations, NGOs and the Nepalese state’, in David Gellner (ed.), Resistance and the State: Nepalese Experiences, New Delhi: Social Science Press,  2003, and also Guneratne, Arjun, 2002. Many tongues, one people: the making of Tharu identity in Nepal. Ithaca:  Cornell University Press.

[15] Hoftun et al., p.251.

[16] Chitra K.Tiwari, `Post-election analysis II: Nepal under UML’, posted on Nepal Net (Internet), December 1999.

[17] Deerapk Thapa,, `Day of the Maoist’, Himal, May 2001, p.4-21; Mary DesChene, `“Black Laws” and the “limited rights” of the people in post-andolan Nepal: the campaign against the proposed anti-Terrorist Act of 2054 V.S.’  Himalayan Research Bulletin, 18(2): 41-67, 1998; interview with Ramesh Nath Pande, 25/7/01.

[18] Even the 1950-51 anti-Rana movement, which first introduced multi-party democracy to Nepal. was said by a 1951 British embassy internal report t to have probably depended on the services of  `out of work “goondas” from Calcutta’ (see Hoftun et al., p.18).

[19]SEARCH, Strengthening Democratic Processes in Nepal:Voter Education Program, Kathmandu, 1991, p.87-88. 

[20] For interpretations on these lines, as opposed to social contract theories, see, for example, chapter 14 (`From egalitarianism to kleptocracy’) of Jared Diamond’s Guns, Germs, and Steel: the Fates of Human Societies (New York: Norton, 1998) and  Charles Tilly, “War Making and State Making as Organized Crime,”  in  Peter Evans, Dietrich Rueschemeyer & Theda Skocpol, (eds.) Bringing the State Back In, (New York: Cambridge University Press, 1985), 169-91.

[21] Fred Gaige and John Scholz, `The 1991 Paliamentary elections in Nepal’, in M.D.Dharamdasani (ed.), Varanasi: Shalimar, 1992, p.51.

[22] Anne de Salle `The Kham Magar country, Nepal: between ethnic claims and Maoism.’ European Bulletin of Himalayan Research 19, 2000, p.63.

[23] Hobsbawm, Age of Extremes: the Short Twentieth Century 1914-1991, London: Abacus,1994, p.81-82, quoting Manfred Hinz (ed.), Räte-Chine: Dokumente der Chinesischen Revolutionn (1927-31), Berlin, 1973.

[24] Minendra Rijal, .then an advisor to Sher Bahadur Deuba and .later a member of the Planning Commission, confirmed in an interview in August 2002 that this was one of the reasons for the state’s lack of accurate intelligence on the Maoist insurgency.

[25] After the ceasefire earlier this year the Maoists were reported to be trying to further expand their armed forces by telling potential recruits they would be assured later of a job in the national army.  This view of the Maoists was expressed by one of Manjusree Thapa’s informants on a recent trip to Jumla: ` Only 15 to 20 percent of their workers are ideologically motivated. The rest are jobless kids who wouldn’t be given  money if they asked for it from their parents. So they join the party, and extort from us with their guns.’ (`Peace Bridge’, Nepali Times 4/4/03).

[26] For a brief discussion of the growth of corruption  before 1990, see John Whelpton, A History of Nepal, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2005, p.178

[27] See Sara Shneiderman & Mark Turin, `The Path to Jansarkar in Dolakha: Towards an Ethnography of the Maoist Movement’ (paper presented at the November 2001 SOAS conference on the Maoist movement) for characterisation of the police on these lines among the Thangmi ethnic group, who had been particularly receptive to Maoist approaches

[28] The government in 1997 was actually a coalition headed by the NDP’s Lok Bahadur Chand but the UML provided its largest block of supporters and, crucially, Bam Gautam was in charge of the Home Ministry.

[29] See, for example the analysis by. Shyam Shrestha, (member of the Unity Centre central leadership) `Ke Maobadiharu Pherieka chhan?’ Himal KP14 March 2001, and, more recently, Pushkar Gautam, `Shakti Puja ra Prachandapath’, Himal KP 15/3/03. In the aftermath of the October 1917 revolution, elections to a constituent assembly did indeed go against the Bolsheviks and were set aside by them. See also Shiva Gaunle, `Bicharo Sambidhansabha’, Himal KP, 17/1//02: for the argument that a constituent assembly in an country is more likely to ratify changes already made than to initiate them.

[30] Krishna Hachhethu, Party Building in Nepal , p.210, argues that the  unexpectedly poor performance of the ex-pancha parties in the 1991 elections stemmed precisely from the fact that Congress and the UML were now seen as the dominant forces.

[31] The old argument against acceptance was put explicitly by Raghu Pant at the UML Convention earlier this year when he said agreeing to a constituent assembly `would look like the UML going the Maoists’ way’ (Kathmandu Post –internet edition, 3 February 2003).

[32] This was reflected, for example, in the electoral success of Yadavs, a dominant caste in some Tarai district and also the 1986 defeat of Harka Gurung, a solah jat Gurung who failed to retain char jat support.

[33] Harka Gurung’s career as Vice-Chairman of the Planning Commission reflected  King Birendra’s appreciation of his academioc achievements but, like the appointment of the Dalit Hiralal Bishwakarma as an assistant minister, was also probably intended to project a more inclusive image..  

[34] Hachhethu, p.193.

[35] `Reservations’ has normally been understood as quotas in education and in public sector employment. There are now demands for the concept to be extended to the private sector (see for example Padmalal Bishwakarma, `Dalitlai arakshan kina ra kasari?’, Onta et al. (ed.), Chapama Dalit, p363. ) Legislation extending reservations to private sector organisations was enacted in the Indian state of Maharastra.in January 2004 though it has yet to be implemented.

[36] See Ben Campbell, `The Heavy Loads of Tamang Identity’ in David Gellner et al. (eds.), Nationalism and Identity in a Hindu Kingdom, Amsterdam: Harwood, 1997.

[37] There was one Dalit (a Damai) among the 202 members of the 1991 House of Representatives. The Dalit proportion in the total population is disputed. A figure of 20% is often quoted by activists (and was used in 2003 in a speech by a government minister, Narayan Singh Pun). However, the 1991 census reported a figure of 16.9% and that of 2001 only 13.3%, presumably because of Dalits adopting surnames of higher castes (see Baburam Bishwakarma, `Kasari ghatyo dalitko sankhya?’, Himal KP 30/3/03, p.42). Members of hill janajatis, who are around 26% of Nepal’s total population, accounted for 22% of House membership in 1991 and 18% in 1994, whilst for Tarai ethnic groups, 9% of the population, the corresponding figures are 8% and 6% (data from the 2001 census and from Harka Gurung, Nepal; Social Demography and Expressions, Kathmandu: New ERA, 1998,p.149).

[38] See Padmalal Bishwakarma,. `Kina uthna Sakena Ekikrit Ddalit Andolan’, in Onta et al.,Chhapama Dalit, Kathmandu: Ekta Books, 2001-2, and Dilli Raman Dahal, this volume. In Dhorpatan, Bishwakarmas apparently continue to claim a higher caste status and this is accepted by local Tibetans but not by the upper castes (Colin Millard, `Democracy and Dissent in Nepal: an Overview with some Perceptions from the Valley of Dhorpatan’ ,  in David Gellner (ed.), Resistance and the State: Nepalese Experiences,  New Delhi: Social Science Press, 2003.)

[39] Padmalal.Bishwakarma. `Kina uthna Sakena…, p.305-8. Amongst some Dalits activists this process went so far that separate factions emerged aligned with the three members of the Congress troika.

[40] Figure calculated from 1991 census data by Harka Gurung (`Trident and Thunderbolt: Culture Dynamics in Nepalese Politics’, Mahesh Chandra Regmi Lecture delivered at Social Science Baha conference, 24/5/2004, Table 7). The name Dom, also used in the Indian Himalaya west of the Mahakali,  may possibly be cognate with Roma, the name used for themselves by the Gypsies, who emigrated from India in the Mioddle Ages (George van Driem, Languages of the Himalayas: an Ethnolinguistic Handbook of the Himalayan Region. Leiden: Brill, 2001, p. 1101).. Whether the Doms are the descendants of a pre-Parbatiya population or emerged by internal differentiation within the Parbatiyas, they are certainly regarded by other Nepalis as Parbatiya and Hindu.

[41] Himal KP 16/11/01. The report gives the example of a temple in Doti which was closed to all but the temple priests in order to avoid having to admit the Doms.

[42] A survey in 2053 (1998/9) showed that between  65% and 86%  of Dalits are below the poverty line, making them worse off than any other group except the Limbus (Padmalal Bishwakarma, `Dalitlai Arakshan Kina ra Kasari’, p.360).

[43] This probably remains true today (March 2005) although there are signs of friction between the Maoist central leadership and ethnic activists who have up till now been aligned with them.

[44] One of the army’s problems is reportedly the lack of counselling to deal with this situation. In areas of the hills where Maoist dominance is particularly strong (perhaps about 40% of the country on an estimate from one Western-INGO worker with extensive experience in the central hills) they may forcibly recruit brothers or sisters of army personnel in addition (or as an alternative) to forcing army families out of the area.

[45] It is arguable that, without wholesale replacement of the officer corps an a radical change in its ethos, this would have happened even if the constitution had put the army formally under government control..  Civilian heads of government cannot always depend on the loyalty of generals they themselves have appointed, as graphically demonstrated   by Pinochet’s overthrow of  Allende in Chile and  Zia’s of Bhutto in Pakistan.

[46] A point made forcibly by, among others, Deepak Gyawali, `Nepali Maobadko bauddhik anuhar’, Himal Khabar Patrika 14/3/0

[47] Borre et al., Nepalese Political Behaviour, New Delhi: Sterling, 1994, p.158.

[48] Genevieve Lakier, ‘Public spectacle and political power: the bandh and democracy in Nepal’, this volume.

[49] Mahendra Lawoti’s Towards a Democratic Nepal: Inclusive Political Institutions for a Multicultural Society (Kathmandu: Mandala Bookpoint/New Delhi: Sage)came into my hands too late to be properly  utilised in revising this paper. It includes detailed discssion and recommendation on many of the issues here very briefly discussed.

[50] The problem is, of course, a long-standing one in South Asia.  Writing at the beginning of the last century, Rudyard Kipling  had one of his Indian characters characterise the police as `thieves and extortioners…but at least they do not suffer any rivals’ (Kim, London: Pan Books, 1967 [1901], p.67). Such sentiments would probably be echoed throughout the region today.

[51] This method is currently used in Hong Kong to allocate purchase rights for government-subsidised `Home Ownership’ flats. Drawing lots was an established method of allocating certain public offices under the Athenian democracy in ancient Greece.

[52] Well-established democracies differ in the extent to which the civil service is insulated from the effects of party politics. Political appointments are a more important feature of the American than of the U.K. bureaucracy though even in America the vast majority of appointments are non-political.

[53] See above, pg.

[54] Superintendent John Godber  fled Hong Kong  when confronted with evidence that he had accummulated bank balances many times greater than his official salar. far beyond his means. Securing his extradition from Britain (where possession of assets disproportionate to one’s known means was not a criminal offence) was an early ICAC success – though some have claimed that it was achieved by fabricating evidence of another, extraditable offence.

[55] Bharatraj Upreti (`Sanketkalin Shasanka Chunauti’, Himal Khavar Patrika, 12/2/05) argues that corruption involving businessmen has not yet been addressed in Nepal and that doing so is central to the control of corruption in general.

[56] Nigel Cameron, An Illustrated History of Hong Kong. Hong Kong: Oxford University Press, 1991, p.319.   Before the book’s publication, I was offered the same comparison by a serving British inspector in the Hong Kong police, who acknowledged the earlier extent of corruption but had no doubt that his force was now `cleaner than the Met’. There has, however, been a suggestion that the sudden decline at the end of  the 1980s in quantities of drugs seized and in drug-related offences could indicate collusion with drug dealers (Frank Welsh, A History of Hong Kong, London: HarperCollins, 1993, p.493.).

[57] The Panchayat system primarily depended on the monarchy and its control of the army. The Maoists have developed a very effective network of sympathisers at local level but the main pillar of their present influence is a trained guerilla force which, like the RNA, combines people from different regions and ethnic backgrounds and can be switched as needed from area to area.

[58] As advocated, for example by Pashuram Tamang, `Address of Welcome at a Ceremony Organised by the Nepal Janajati Mahasangh in Honour of Ethnic Community Members of Parliament’, 1991.

[59] A number of other suggestions for practical devolution are made by Deepak Gyawali, `Nagarikko Dayitva’, Himal KP 27/2/01 (Special Supplement on Himal’s `Bhirbata Kasari Pharkaune Deshlai?’ 8 Fagun 2057 Conference).

[60] Whelpton, `The General Elections of May 1991’, p.49.

[61] A view advanced both by Deepak Gyawali, `Reflecting on contemprary Neapli angst’Himal, April 2002 , p.37=39 and Deepak Thapa, `Day of the Maoist’, Himal, May 2001, p.4-21. Gyawali also argues specifically against the 3% rule. Bhattarai’s faction of the UPF were denied national party status since Vaidya and his followers  were accepted by the Election Commision as the legitimate successor of the pre-division party. This decision was reversed by the Supreme Court in summer 1997.

[62] The complexity is most fully illustrated by the fold-out diagram in Bhim Rawal , Nepalma Samyabadi Andolan: Udbhav ra Bikas , Kathmandu: Pairavi Prakashan, 2047 V.S. (1990/91). A simplified diagram, covering the period up to 1995, is given in Hoftun et al., p.392.

[63] Pancha Maharjan (personal communication) has suggested that apprehension over Lama’s growing popularity was a major reason behind the 1994 split.

[64] I was told by one participant in the Kathmandu conference that the king already does sometimes interact publicly with Dalits in ways not allowed under the traditional rules. However, this has clearly not been adequately emphasised and publicised.

[65] Deepak Gyawali, `Nagariktako Dayitya’ Himal KP 27/2/01 (Special Supplement on Himal’s `Bhirbata Kasari Pharkaune Deshlai?’ 8 Fagun 2057 Conference).

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