KATHMANDU, May 6: Is the government pushing necessary reforms—or quietly expanding its grip on power?
That question has gained urgency after a group of civil society leaders issued a public “Citizens’ Appeal” on Monday, warning that recent government actions signal a drift toward authoritarianism.
Intellectuals, civic leaders, and professionals have accused the government of adopting a working style “leaning toward authoritarianism.”
A day later, Prime Minister Balendra Shah responded—indirectly—through social media, asserting that the government was formed on a public mandate and that every step it takes is in the people’s interest.
Between these positions lies more than a difference in wording. It reflects a widening trust deficit. Nepali politics today appears trapped in that gap—where suspicion shapes perception, much like the proverb: a hermit fears a dog, and the dog barks at the hermit.
Political analyst Hari Roka sees the government’s recent steps as troubling. Bypassing a convened parliamentary session and turning to ordinances to amend laws, he argues, departs from standard democratic practice. “It sends a message that the government is moving toward authoritarian tendencies,” he said.
But political science professor Krishna Pokharel offers a counterpoint. For a government with a strong mandate, he argues, ordinances can be a practical tool. “When other processes delay action, using ordinances to introduce or amend laws is not unusual. Where exactly is authoritarianism in this?” he asked.
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Still, Roka is critical of the government’s communication style. On sensitive issues, he argues, relying on social media instead of formal platforms like parliament undermines clarity and trust. “People cannot always be sure whether a social media post reflects the prime minister’s official position. It creates confusion, not transparency,” he said.
In a functioning democracy, the relationship between the government and the opposition rests on trust, balance, and engagement. But that balance appears to be eroding. The government believes the opposition blocks reform at every turn; the opposition suspects the government is centralizing power.
Caught in this cycle of distrust, core democratic values—dialogue, consensus, and balance—are being pushed aside.
The concerns raised in the citizens’ appeal go beyond routine criticism. They touch on serious issues: the state’s hardline approach to clearing informal settlements, governing through ordinances after halting a parliamentary session, signals of control over institutions and professional bodies, and constraints on media freedom and access to information.
These are not just policy disagreements—they strike at the foundations of democracy. When the state intervenes in housing rights, freedom of expression, and institutional autonomy, scrutiny is inevitable. Even well-intentioned actions can provoke resistance if the process lacks transparency and consultation.
The eviction of informal settlements remains particularly sensitive. Displacement in the name of development is not new, but displacement without rehabilitation is widely seen as a failure of governance. Civil society leaders have even warned that some displaced individuals have been pushed to the brink of suicide, calling it a human rights concern. If such claims hold weight, the government’s assertion of acting in the public interest weakens.
Roka also questions the timing of such actions, especially during the monsoon season without a clear plan. “It is not enough to remove people—the government must explain where and how they will be resettled,” he said, stressing the need for immediate relief and rehabilitation.
At the same time, the citizens’ appeal itself is not beyond scrutiny. Is it a genuine warning to uphold democratic norms—or an attempt to exert political pressure? Civil society in Nepal has not always been entirely neutral, and such appeals have, at times, aligned with opposition narratives. The question, therefore, is not superficial: Is this a defense of democracy or part of a broader power struggle?
Political interference—from universities to bureaucracy—remains deeply entrenched. Appointments, transfers, and promotions have long been influenced by political access, eroding both institutional efficiency and public trust. In that sense, the government’s stated aim of creating a depoliticized professional environment appears valid in principle. The real concern lies in how it is being pursued.
Civil society has raised critical questions: Why halt a parliamentary session to introduce ordinances? Why was there limited debate? Why was stakeholder engagement weak? In a democracy, not just the goal but the process must be credible. Good intentions pursued through questionable means often breed mistrust.
“The government has not clearly explained why the ordinance was necessary or what it seeks to achieve,” Roka said. “Steps taken without adequate information can appear driven by vested interests.”
Ordinances themselves are not new to Nepal. Successive governments have relied on them. But repeating past practices does not amount to reform—it reinforces suspicion.
Is the government avoiding parliamentary scrutiny? Is it sidestepping debate in the House? The government argues urgency; critics argue overreach. Both sides hold some truth. But in a democracy, solutions must come through consensus—not unilateral action.
At its core, Nepali politics continues to struggle with mutual distrust. The government sees obstruction; the opposition sees consolidation of power. The danger arises when both begin to treat each other as adversaries rather than counterparts.
If the government’s goal is genuine reform, analysts say, it must prioritize trust-building. Convening parliament and allowing debate could have lent legitimacy to its decisions.
Many argue that gradual, consultative reform would have been more effective than sweeping moves. Engaging student unions, employee associations, civil society, and informal settlers before taking decisions could have reduced resistance. In dealing with settlements, compassion—not coercion—was expected.
The opposition, too, must move beyond reflexive criticism and offer credible alternatives. If the government’s intent is sound, cooperation should follow. Branding every move as “authoritarian” risks weakening the opposition’s own credibility.
Nepal clearly needs reform. But the process has become contentious, and the approach is mistrusted. The lesson is clear: reform cannot be imposed—it must be built on trust.
