However, even though politics is ambiguous by its very nature, the practice of statecraft demands clarity and certainty. Decisions that affect millions of other lives cannot be made with self-doubt before and pangs of guilt afterwards. Revisiting some of the recent developments in Nepali politics would show that the wrangling over competing realities can end up wounding the truth: No matter which manifestation one hits, the same One gets hurt.
President Rambaran Yadav had overturned the executive decision of an elected government and restored a dismissed army chief to his post through midnight missives of uncertain legitimacy. In a test of primacy between the head of government and his army chief, wishes of the latter had demonstrably prevailed. Under the circumstances, the first elected prime minister of the republic had no option but to bow out of office and kick up as much dust as possible to highlight the helplessness of an elected representative of the sovereign people of Nepal.
With his hard-hitting resignation letter read out to the media, Pushpa Kamal Dahal had exposed the lacunae of a dysfunctional democracy with aplomb. Those who had conspired for his ouster needed a puppet government to legitimize the presidential fiat. An anti-Maoist coalition was hastily cobbled together to put a formal stamp of approval upon the directives of the president. Once that process was complete, Madhav Kumar Nepal became a political embarrassment even for his own internal and external sponsors. That he lasted as long as he did at Baluwatar is a tribute to his tenacity and the ability of his core team in manipulating public opinion.
Nepal managed to expose the nakedness of Indian interventions even as he played the “yours obediently” role to perfection. The Indian ambassador may have been impressed upon to write a letter of request in the Machine Readable Passport (MRP) contract, which was then surreptitiously leaked to the Maoists. It put the Indian bidder out of the process almost immediately. Planted news in government-friendly press made it appear as if successes of Premier Nepal were all his own while all failures were caused by meddlesome Indian interlocutors. With friends like Nepal at the helms in Singha Durbar, the envoy at Lainchaur did not need any enemies. But the Maoists were willing to play the role of handy goblins anyway. So Nepal made it look as if he was the last man standing between a democratic order and Maoist takeover.
The subterfuge worked beyond the wildest imagination of Nepal’s propaganda team. The Stalinist former Secretary General of Nepal Communist Party (United Marxist Leninist) succeeded in building a democratic image for himself despite ignoring the electoral mandate – he had lost elections from two constituencies – and running a government dominated by unelected politicos. Even when he resigned, he did so by making sure that he would continue to wield authority without responsibility for as long as possible. It was during his caretaker status that the UNMIN had to leave even as the fate of a fragile peace process hung in the
balance.
Nepal functioned as if he was answerable to no one but his trusted coterie. Since he did not have the confidence of lawmakers even from his own party, he made no attempt of being accountable to the legislature. He spent his time politicking instead. He pulled the carpet from under the feet of Nepali Congress so deftly—each one of the NC nominees in the coalition cabinet was demonized with the help of UML cadres in the administration and the press—that even the Maoists were left gaping in admiration. The Maoists returned the favor of decimating their main political opposition by agreeing to put interned combatants nominally under a special committee. That decision is hardly worth the paper it is written on, but it gave Nepal something to crow about his otherwise meaningless tenure in office.
Statements made above are interpretations of political developments of recent past. A completely different view over the same set of events is possible. Apologists of Nepal can argue that President Yadav saved the country from Maoist takeover by his executive decision and needs to be complemented for his boldness. The “doctrine of necessity” demanded that the succeeding government validate the decision of the head of state without questioning its legality. Such arguments cannot be dismissed out of hand, either.
Jhalnath Khanal has since been elected the third premier of republican Nepal. Unlike the collective sigh of relief that had greeted the formation of anti-Maoist coalition in the salons of Kathmandu a year and half ago, the election of Khanal is being presented as a defeat of democratic spirit, even though a government has been formed after a seven month-long hiatus this time around. Chairpersons of two of the three largest political parties in the country signed a seven-point agreement, presumably after intense negotiations. The media began to pour scorn over it the moment its contents were made public. Khanal is being portrayed by a section of the media as a conspirator rather than a practical politician like any other in the country who have to play the game of compromises in order to survive and thrive.
Is the ascension of Khanal to power a sunset or sunrise? It could be anything. After all, dusk is the promise of dawn to come and morning is merely a beginning towards an inevitable evening. Nepal has begun to fancy himself as Surya Bahadur Thapa of future who would be the trusted democratic face of the Establishment in times of crises. Khanal has every right to perceive himself as a latter-day nationalist in the mould of Kirtinidhi Bishta who would not rock the boat too much even as he takes the flak for failures of the Regime with fortitude. Together, they are testimonials to the old adage that the more things change, the more they remain the same. No two sunsets are exactly alike, yet they seldom differ in the effect they create. Perception is the most powerful reality, and President Yadav is a republican monarch—the Mahendra of our times.
Apart from being multifaceted, no reality in politics is ever self-evident. It has to be manufactured, sorted and packaged for public consumption. The media is the marketplace where competing realities vie for attention. Facts are sacred, their interpretations are not. The Maoists have the largest number of lawmakers in the Constituent Assembly. That is a fact. They do not command a clear majority is also obvious. However, the invention that they are unfit to lead the government because they are not yet a “civilian” party is a manufactured reality. Data is often unglamorous. Facts are also mostly stark. What really grabs the attention of the public are competing realities with all their absurdities. Truth becomes an unintended victim of an obsession with facts and their interpretations. As long as multiplicity of realities is not celebrated, peace will continue to elude, and stability will remain a distant dream. Certitude breeds fanaticism.
Ambiguity leaves enough space for different viewpoints and creates a common ground for conversation. Perhaps that is what democracy is all about: The confidence to begin with “I may be wrong” before making the point that “but I do believe …” That is a lesson the Maoists need to learn most, though politicos of “democratic” parties could also do with a refresher course in the art of admitting one’s inadequacies without embarrassment. All realities are imperfect. Only the Truth is absolute.
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