Cardiothoracic surgeon Bhagwan Koirala proved to be an institution-builder in addition to being one of the very best in his chosen field of specialization. Ophthalmologist and Ramon Magsaysay Award winner Sanduk Ruit is known worldwide for his innovative techniques in improvising affordable eye surgery for the poor. The roll is so extensive that it's impossible to count all illustrious names in a hurry.Among his peers of the renowned, orthopedist Govinda KC is better recognized for his unorthodox ways of curing the sick than entrepreneurship, management skills, institution-building capabilities, enduring innovation or possessing rewards of being in a profession where prosperity comes easy. He is not known to indulge in private practice, own shares in for-profit hospitals and medical colleges or offer his services as consultants to bilateral and multilateral donors. His commitment to selfless service remains unequaled.
Over the last few years, however, orthopedist KC has gained some repute for disturbing the peace of plutocrats with his unconventional ways of protest. He is back to doing once again what he knows better than almost anyone else in contemporary Nepal: Stage a fast-unto-death in order to attract attention towards the rapidly spreading disease in the medical education of the country.
Almost anyone else indulging in such antics in Nepal—a country famous for its bravery and martial races where polite protests aren't even understood let alone be appreciated—would have invited ridicule and caused mirth. The force of personality of Govinda KC, however, is so captivating that even his severest critics, and there are legions of them with billions of investment and millions worth of individual monthly returns at stake, daren't laugh at his seemingly Sisyphean efforts.
Unlike ceremonial Prime Minister Sushil Koirala, he is not known to own as many cellphones. Disarmingly unpretentious, he doesn't even claim moral superiority and is always ready to give benefit of doubt to dignitaries who think they are more popular or powerful. It is the naivety of hangers-on that tend to use his moral force to feed their own egos that causes concern. No human body is built to endure fast-unto-death routines on a regular basis and fears for the life of KC aren't metaphorical.
Political culture
The Satyagrahi in KC has probably realized by now what he has pitted himself against. It's not just the so-called 'medical mafia' but the very mechanism of market-based sickness industry worth trillions of dollars worldwide. In the ecosystem of libertarianism, market forces determine demand, supply, quality, quantity, delivery mechanism and pricing of medicines, medical education, and the very life of consuming units. Regulatory mechanisms exist to give legitimacy rather than to monitor quality.
He probably also knows that most Nepalis face far more pressing problems related to food, clothing, shelter, employment opportunities, access to clean water, adequate nutrition, dependable sanitation, basic education, physical security, emotional dignity, and primary healthcare from barefoot doctors than properly trained surgeons and physicians with fancy degrees from high-priced institutions. It's not uncommon for a day labor to sell his blood for food or a farmer to hawk his kidney in order to meet family expenses. These are issues of political economy that require deeper engagements than that of few White Shirts with impromptu banners decrying the medical mafia.
Due to limitations of his profession, he can do very little to change fundamental conditions of wellness of ordinary people. So KC chooses to vent his rage in the only way he knows—by harping upon warts upon medical education while economic cancer of extreme laissez-faire continues to devour the body politic. It is also not that his unusually vocal and clickivist ("users of social media and other online methods to promote a cause") supporters are at fault. Expecting miracles, rather than slogging for slow reforms, is one of the defining features of political culture in Nepal.
Gabriel Abraham Almond (1911-2002), widely regarded as one of the most influential political scientists of the 20th century, defined political culture as "a particular pattern of orientation to political actions," which in the case of Nepal consists of looking for a savior whenever faced with incomprehensible situation. Jang Bahadur Kunwar, a ruthless opportunist with no morals is still considered an ideal and some people unashamedly claim that all this country needs is a miracle-maker of his calibre.
At any assembly of the social elite, conversations invariably turn towards the lament of how Nepal has failed to produce a Lenin, a Mao, a Mandela, a Narendra Modi or even an Arvind Kejriwal. Unsurprisingly, Mahatma Gandhi never managed to make it to the list of idols of Kathmandu bourgeoisie, presumably because the "half-naked fakir" wore only a Dhoti and spoke mostly Hindi, which the cultural gatekeepers of Nepali identity love to hate. Ever the updated cohort, bless the internet, the chattering classes of posh salons have recently rediscovered Lee Kuan Yew (1923-2015), the maker of modern Singapore, a city-state known for banning chewing gum among other more important things.
Astute entrepreneur
Contrary to popular perception, Yew wasn't the founder of Singapore; that distinction goes to British colonialist Sir Thomas Stamford Raffles (1781-1826) who realized much before anyone else the strategic significance of a possible port near the mouth of the Strait of Malacca. When establishing a town on a fishing island in 1819, Sir Raffles probably had no idea that it would one day emerge as one of the most prosperous city-states of the world. The advantages of location, however, in the middle of one of the narrowest sea-lanes were impossible to ignore. Even today, nearly a quarter of all world trade passes through the Malaccan Strait.
If Sir Raffles was the founder, the credit for creating the city-state should go to the Malaysian strongman Tunku Abdul Rahman who expelled Singapore from the Federation of Malaysia in 1965 and forced the People's Action Party and its enterprising leader Yew to think creatively about the idea of a state as a commercial enterprise in an area that had no resource save its location bang in the middle of a war-torn but economically active region.
In the mid-sixties, the political market was ready for a city-state of Singapore's size and Yew's proclivities. With its external security guaranteed by the Western powers that needed the Malaccan Straits safe and serviced for increase in international trade after the rise of Japan, the new nation was free to invest saved resources in physical infrastructure. Internal security was farmed out to professional mercenaries from British forces so that the law and order machinery could be kept aloof from pushes and pulls of a diverse population. Yew knew that viability of Singapore as a political entity depended on its economic prosperity and went about creating it with the single-mindedness of a driven entrepreneur.
Reasons behind the magical success of Singapore has been analyzed threadbare, however, what really stands out is that Yew managed to keep his city-state as an island of diversity in the sea of chauvinism centered around Bhoomiputra (sons of the soil) ideology in Burma, Indonesia, Malaysia, Thailand and Sri Lanka. It attracted droves of wealthy ethnic minorities—the Chinese, the Tamils, and the Sindhis—from everywhere who then helped Yew build the country as a corporate entity.
The real lesson Singapore offers to Nepal is not that a country needs a strong personality at helms but the fact that celebration of diversities can be a real strength. And campaigners behind KC's just crusades will do well to remember that at the end of the day, it's the curer of maladies—the politicians—that make, change or break history rather than interpreters in professions such as law, engineering, medicine or journalism.
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