Nepali Politics 105

I know, I’ve been gone for an absurdly long time.  If it makes you feel any better to know the reason for my disappearance, let it be known that in the meantime I’ve had various intestinal ailments, multiple migraines, at least two separate colds… and spent about a month wandering around in the US again.

And right now I’m honking with bronchitis.  Yay, bronchitis.

But enough about me.  This post is headlined Nepali Politics for a reason.  I’m not here to write ONLY because I’m wide awake while the rest of the house sleeps, nor because I got the idea just before it got bright enough to read.  (For those of you interested in comparing time zones, note that it’s now, at 5:06 AM, plenty bright enough to sit by the window and read.)

Nepal made the international news this week.  And I’m unfortunately aware that that isn’t altogether common, so I wanted to give my take on the news.

Really, I’ve been surprised by the international coverage I’ve seen.  The problem seems to be that the media wants to simplify the problem, so that it will fit in a news bite, but the problem isn’t simple at all.  Actually, that’s WHY it’s a problem.

The breaking point happened Monday.  As I’ve noted, I’m sick, and have been all week; I canceled all my classes, and yesterday, when I finally tried to work again, I sent myself into an annoying relapse.  So on Monday, in between multiple naps, I heard on the radio, “Due to the resignation of the Prime Minister…”

Hold up.

Due to the WHAT?

I hauled myself out of bed, weaving and coughing and sneezing all the while, to come to the computer and check the online news.  And, yes, the Prime Minister, who I wrote about in Nepali Politics 103, back in late August, as only then being appointed, had indeed submitted his resignation following his speech at 3 pm on Monday afternoon.

The question with the long answer is WHY.  I’ll try to simplify it, in a way that even the BBC itself shocked me by being too lazy to do.

EXHIBIT A:  Nepal just ended a civil war.

You must start there, to explain this.  In 2006, the peace accords were signed to end a two-year civil war between the national army and the forces of a Maoist/Marxist/communist uprising that had swept the country.

EXHIBIT B:  At the end of the war, thousands* of soldiers of the former rebel forces were left in “cantonments.”

*(Thousands deserves an asterisk because of other news this week that merits a post of its own.)

Think of the end of the American Civil War, when pockets of Confederate soldiers dotted the country.  Except, then, most of those Confederates melted back into the general society from which they came.  Here in Nepal, as part of the peace accords, the United Nations rounded up the former Maoist combatants and penned them into various camps called “cantonments” around the country.

EXHIBIT C:  Many of the former rebels now expect to be eventually integrated into the national army.

Personally, I have a bit of trouble understanding this one.  But apparently many of the Maoist soldiers don’t want to return to their homes and families; they’ve been trained, and had experience, as soldiers.  The peace accords were signed with the expectation that, while some of the former rebel soldiers could turn to civilian society, many would join the national military or police forces.

EXHIBIT D:  A few months ago, news broke that the national army was recruiting.

Late last fall, this made the headlines here in Kathmandu in multiple forms, for multiple reasons.  First, it outraged many people–especialy the Maoists–and earned censure from the United Nations itself, because a point in the peace accords was that neither side that fought the civil war would recruit to increase their numbers following the outbreak of peace.  Now, we’re getting close to the reason for the current political snarl.  Because, you see, the national army defended itself by protesting that they weren’t recruiting with the goal of a net increase in their numbers; no, they were just trying to fill some of the places that had opened up due to normal changes following the war, retirements and resignations and such.

Curiously, what no one seemed to actively protest, but what no doubt many people were thinking, was the real nut of the problem:  if the national army had open spots, why didn’t they seize on those as an opportunity to begin the integration of the armies, by recruiting from the cantonments?

EXHIBIT E:  In retaliation, the Maoist forces announced that they wanted to start recruiting, too.

In the age-old wisdom of “THEY’re doing it; why can’t WE?’ headlines blared with prominent words from various Maoists, stating (with a contemptous sniff, one could imagine) that they, too, wanted to begin recruiting to fill the positions that had opened up in their own army following the war.

EXHIBIT F:  The government told everybody to stop recruiting.

I’m unclear as to whether or not the Maoists actually did.  But the national army dithered for a while, as the controversy loomed and both sides argued back and forth, even involving the courts, until the leaders of the national army could smugly reply that they’d completed their recruiting and the first batch of new recruits were already in training.

By this point it was February.

EXHIBIT G:  Following elections last year (April of 2008), the political party with the largest component in government was actually the Maoist party.

International observers dubbed those elections largely free and fair.  And nearly everyone was surprised by the strong showing of the Maoist (actually, officially UML-Maoist, or “United Marxist Leninist-Maoist”) party.  They were, after all, the former rebels, a scant two years before.  Picture an alternate reality where, following the American Civil War, the new “Confederate” party rose to national acclaim as the most prominent political party, nation-wide, and you’ll have some idea of the change.

Apparently many people did connect with the platform of the Maoist party.  But, too, Nepal has multiple political parties, dozens more than the squabbling pair that demand all attention in the United States.  Here, three parties are admittedly the most prominent (Nepali Congress, UML-Maoist, and “regular” UML, [ie, UML-non-Maoist]), but various small parties also claimed seats in the elections last year that chose representatives to write a new national constitution and govern the country in the interim.  All of which leads to…

EXHIBIT H:  Though the Maoists won a plurality, they didn’t have a majority.

That is, though UML-Maoist garnered more seats in the election than any other party, they didn’t win more than 50% of the seats.  This meant that the negotiations last summer to simply form a government were highly complicated.  Compare the situation with what just happened in Israel, if you have that as a reference.  Since Israel also has multiple parties and a parliamentary system set up to accomodate them, the leaders of their parties also have to bargain with one another in order to form a working coalition to actually govern the country.

As much as I hate having the blunt either-or choice that elections in the United States usually present voters with (Republican or Democratic platform?), you have to acknoweledge that when there are multiple strongly competing parties, all with their own competing platforms… well, trying to streamline them and make them coincide, is more than difficult.  It’s a bit of a mess.

EXHIBIT G:  Following those elections, finally, it was decided that the Prime Minister would be from the Maoist, and the President from the Nepali Congress, party.

Again, with the comparisons:  like France, Nepal has it set up, (in their interim constitution, at least) that they have both a Prime Minister and a President.  The Prime Minister fulfills the role of leading the Constituent Assembly/legislative body, in a way a bit similar to the Senate Majority Leader in the United States, though with far more power.  Essentially, the Prime Minister is expected to lead in governing and in deciding internal issues.  The President fills the role of head of state–a bit like the role of the Queen of England, or the role of the former King here in Nepal.  The office of President is therefore set up to be a fairly honorary position–though with some role in governing, as well.

EXHIBIT H:  The Maoists and Nepali Congress don’t get along very well.

The Nepali Congress party is recognized as the grand-daddy of democracy in Nepal.  The party formed in the ’50s, and was the first to loudly push for democratic reforms to the monarchy that then governed Nepal.  For a long time, they were the strongest political party here.  Too, they’re widely viewed as drawing their inspiration from India (just to the south of here) and the United States.

The UML-Maoist party formed from the leaders of the Maoist uprising that just conquered much of the countryside in the civil war.  As the reference to Marx, Lenin, and Mao in their name ought to loudly indicate, they’re avowedly communist in orientation.  They earn their most common designation of “Maoist” from their focus on Mao’s idea of mobilizing the rural peasantry.  Like China a century ago, in Nepal even a decade ago (even now!) there wasn’t much of an urban proletariat to organize.  Instead, across the country the vast majority of people are subsistence farmers.  So… though their party loudly denounces foreign intervention, they’re viewed as looking to China (just to the north of here) for inspiration.

Note bene, of the two strongest political parties here, one is democratic/capitalist, and one is communist.  Do you begin to see a possible problem?

EXHIBIT I:  In March, a new political controversy emerged, when the government refused to renew the terms of 8 ministers in the army.

Their positions were set up to require renewal every four years.  Historically, those positions received automatic renewal in a kind of rubber stamp.  But nothing legally required their renewal.  Just, when the Prime Minister declared that he wouldn’t renew them in their posts this time, people were shocked by the flouting of tradition.  The move was viewed as a slap in the face of the Chief of Army, in retaliation for his refusal to end the earlier recruiting drive in the national army until it was already complete.

EXHIBIT J:  The Chief of Army staff announced that the army ministers would continue in their posts.

Thus, the controversy started to whirlpool.  The ministers kept going to work, sitting in their offices and conducting business as normal.  The Chief of Army staff defended them, even as cases were filed and headlines blared with public comments, and rumored comments, from each side.  The subtext was very obviously a power struggle between the Prime Minister and the Cheif of Army staff, with a background in the earlier row over the recruiting drive.

Did I mention that, despite their repeated statements of political neutrality, the soldiers in the national army, and especially their leaders, are widely viewed as being close to the Nepali Congress party?

EXHIBIT K:  Last week, rumors started to swirl that the Prime Minister intended to fire the Chief of Army.

The rumors featured multiple theories about exactly how this would take place.  The man exactly subordinate to the Chief of Army, after all, is due to retire in June.  So some rumors stated that both the Chief of Army, and the man directly below him, would both be fired.  Of course, this led to shocked statements from the man directly below him, along the lines of, “I haven’t done anything–why do they plan to fire me?”  Against this was argued the impracticality of firing one man to open the way for another that would be replaced in barely a month.  Judging by the previous glacial slide of politics here, I fully expected the debate to drag out beyond that second man’s retirement in June.

EXHIBIT L:  On Sunday, the Prime Minister fired the Chief of Army.

The moment the news leaked out, groups of protesters started to congeal around Kathmandu, blocking intersections and standing outside government buildings.  All of us expatriates were strongly encouraged to stay inside, and out of the chaos.  “Luckily” I had come down with a new digestive ailment at 4:30 am on Sunday, so I had no intention of going anywhere anyway. I took the maximum dose of pepto that one can take in a day, and I was still sick.

EXHIBIT M:  On Monday, the President intervened.  He canceled the fire order, and told the Chief of Army to stay in place.

This week has featured a fair bit of discussion about exactly WHY he did this.  As far as the headlines were concerned, up to Monday, the President wasn’t involved in the situation at all.  But multiple ideas have emerged.  One focuses on Nepal’s perennial fear of foreign meddling in their affairs; people darkly speak of “foreign intervention” in the matter, with an unstated implication that India somehow directed the move.  But the more plausible set of theories focus on the President’s origin in the Nepali Congress party–though, in his position he’s supposed to be mystically beyond politics, and though, as the very nature of a modern army, the soldiers are also supposed to be apolitical…  Well, public sentiment casts both the President and Chief of Army as fellow supporters of the Nepali Congress party.

EXHIBIT N:  On Monday afternoon, at 3:00, the Prime Minister addressed the nation.  And presented his resignation letter to the President.

He cast the issue as one of the supremacy of the civilian government over the military.  You have to admit the point–in most modern governments, that principle is enshrined.  And the Prime Minister was the head of the civilian government, and the Chief of Army was the head of the military.  The head of the government is supposed to deliver orders to the head of the military, and the head of the military is supposed to obey.

But… you also have to admit the complications in the case.  The Prime Minister, Prachanda, is the former leader of the Maoist army that just fought a civil war against the national army, headed by the Army Chief.  He’s an avowed communist, and the Army Chief is said to have democratic leanings.  Peace accords or not, elections or not, principles or not… well, because of those other underlying principles, those are NOT easy differences to bridge.

Too, there’s a raging debate about whether or not the President had any legal authority for his move.  Did the interim constitution grant the President the power to veto a move by the Prime Minister?  Obviously the President thinks yes.  Just as obviously, the Prime Minister thinks no.

EXHIBIT OH-NO:  This week the Maoists completely withdrew from the government.  Instead, every day, in different ways, they protest in the streets.

Following the lead of the Prime Minister, who is, after all, the head of their party (and former army…) the other Maoists withdrew from the government also.  On Tuesday, as I lay in misery, coughing and sneezing and choking up icky brown stuff, I listened to reports of “two thousand Maoists have gathered in Ratna Park… three thousand Maoists are marching through the Thamel junction in the direction of Durbar Square…”  On Wednesday evening, they held a “torchlight rally” throughout the valley, though I was too tired and sick to care.  I didn’t even try peering out the window to see them come down our street; I checked the news only briefly, while eating chicken noodle soup, before going back to sleep.  On Thursday they did more stuff that I was too tired and sick to really care about–yesterday morning the nurse (who is also one of my friends–strange how small the expatriate community is here) had confirmed that my “cold” had migrated into bronchitis and the beginning of an ear infection.  (Apparently the digestive issue early this week had exhausted my immune system just as the cold arrived, so that it was too weakened to properly fight off the cold.)  I sat in bed, reading, too strangely wired by my medicine to sleep, listening to “however many Maoists are in whatever place doing whatever thing”  YOU KNOW WHAT?  I DON’T CARE!  I JUST WANT TO STOP COUGHING!

Yesterday morning, Friday, I felt considerably better.  I wasn’t coughing as much, I wasn’t as tired, and, as I said, I even managed to work for a while.  I read that a group of Maoists were standing outside the President’s residence.  “…the speaker is finishing, and now they are reading a poem.  Please don’t go into this area.”  Why?  Because they’ll read a poem at me?  Maybe I’ll recite Macbeth Act XX Scene i at them!  Or would Richard II Act IV Scene i lines 2150 to 2310 be more appropriate?

But by the afternoon I was coughing incessantly, and for the first time all week (in fact, for the first time in more than a year; I hardly ever get them) I had a fever.  So I lay back in the car as my husband drove me home, feverish and coughing, as I peered out the window at a group of thirty starting to congeal in one of the intersections, with several people proudly holding up communist flags.

With all my extra time to read this week, I finished a biography of Stalin, and started on Krushchev’s memoirs.  I’ve been reading about Tibet under Mao, and I’m about to start on a book labeled Mao’s China and After.  And I read about how many millions of their own people they killed in the pursuit of their goals, and I’m not shivering because I have chills.

Though I am looking forward to today’s promised “Cartoon Protest.”  My husband is eagerly expecting the Maoists to go out and protest the existence of cartoons, or else send all their cartoonist members into the streets.  I’m hoping for some original political cartoons.  After all, they say laughter is the best medicine.

Nepali of the Day:

khoki laagyo:  I have a cough.

ruga laagyo:  I have a cold.

tapaailaai kasto chha:  how are you?

Malaai naraamro chha:  I don’t feel well.

Malaai biraami chha:  I’m sick.

sarkari samasya:  government problem