As federalism is (wrongly) enshrined in the interim constitution as an unalterable clause and as State Restructuring Commission (SRC) is in place to suggest names and numbers of provinces, this declared-in-haste and desired-with-reluctance form of the state could indeed be a reality. Therefore, to discuss if federalism was a necessity is to be politically incorrect too. But there are a considerable number of people in Nepal who find themselves in Chitra Bahadur’s shoes and who feel that solution to country’s maladies lies, not in federalism, but elsewhere. I am a part of that growing bandwagon.
Judging by the progress in State Restructuring Commission, federalism has become the hardest nut to crack for the “experts” too. It is working at a woefully slow pace. A month after its formation, the commission has only been able to set up its offices and hold preliminary discussions. So to expect it to furnish the government with a report, in next one month as scheduled, will be naive. And given the fact that the commission is an assortment of loyalists of the four major parties, even if it submits its report, its recommendations will most likely be the reiteration of the old stands of the respective parties. Given the flawed formation, composition, and the pace of work of the commission, it seems, we have only deferred the prospect of federalism as we continue to fear the complications, viability and acceptability that comes with the concept.
The nitty-gritty of federalism can’t be discussed in a short article, but to put it into simple terms, federalism in Nepal is a process in which a state will be divided into certain federal provinces, in which there will be a chief minister in each province to conduct state affairs independently, much like chief minister of West Bengal or Maharastra in India does. Bottom line: It is decentralization in new disguise. And if decentralization is lifeblood of federalism, we have been a federated country for decades. Allow me to explain.
The first steps towards decentralization, arguably, were taken by King Mahendra when he divided the country into 14 zones and 75 districts in 1960. The aim of this restructuring had been “economic independence and self-reliance” of each district and zone. Each district had a CDO and zone an anchaladhis as their heads. They were designated to oversee development and service delivery in the local areas.
Lest they failed, there were local units called gaun panchayats and nagar-panchayats to do the job at the grassroots. When king Birendra carved out five development regions with north-south borders three decades ago, the purported goal was to “empower each region to reap benefits of its culture, heritage, and resources for economic sufficiency.” (I find the argument that if the country is to adopt federalism, the existing five development regions could be turned into five provinces, rather convincing. Thanks to the wisdom and ingenuity of its architect, Dr Harka Gurung, each of the five regions borders China to the north and India to the south, thus ensuring that they are equidistant from the two neighbors. Plus each region has its share of mountains, hills and plains. Thus, geo-politically at least, there can be no better alternative if we must opt for federalism.)
But as it happened, those regions could not emerge as functioning administrative units, for the simple reason that those delegated to oversee governance misused authority, promoted cronyism and amassed huge wealth for themselves in the process. With the change of regime in 1990, decentralization changed its clothes. Gaun panchayat and nagar-panchayat were newly baptized as VDCs and municipalities, respectively—these local units still exist in names but they are almost dysfunctional. Local Self Governance Act, 1999 was a step forward in functional decentralization but it remained confined to paper. Under new dispensation, the political parties occupied these local spaces and shared the spoils in local funds; very little trickled down to the people. They could hence never taste the real fruits of decentralization.
The problem therefore is not federalism, or lack thereof, but lack of good governance and service delivery. Incidentally, this is one of the country’s historic ills. Historian Baburam Acharya suggests that if the center had been a little more concerned about good governance, Nepal would have retained the expanded territories that it lost in the Sugauli Treaty of 1816. Since 1816, Nepal has compromised governance as dirty power plays have occupied the centre for much of the time. This legacy was passed on when Nepal embarked on Panchayat polity in 1960. When Panchayat was dislodged by multiparty democracy in 1990, governance was rendered less and less effective across Nepal. If the local governance model had been effectively implemented and not made a tool of profiteering for the political class, the issue of federalism might not have come up in the first place.
The federalism claim has issues of linguistic, religious and cultural autonomy at its root. But the interim constitution has already recognized the state as “secular, multicultural, and multilingual.” Except for secularism, these features were enshrined in the constitution of 1991 too. And not to forget, no “democratic” government after 1950’s political change has completely bypassed Dalits and Madhesis—in fact every post-1990 cabinet has had Madhesi leaders. Another justification offered by federalism proponents has been the marginalization of Dalits, Madhesis and a whole class of ethnic communities. True, despite half a decade of democracy, ethnic communities and Dalits languish in the dark corners of Nepali society; they have been forced to live in servitude and have been historically objectified as “others.” But this was not owing to the failure of a unitary state; rather an outcome of poor governance and service delivery from the center.
Since 1960 various administrative reforms have been proposed and each decentralization project promised empowerment and equality. Here’s the rub: What is the guarantee that federal Nepal too might not fall prey to poor governance and service delivery?
A functioning state facilitates the daily lives of its citizens. It ensures rule of law, it protects the most fundamental rights of its citizens and offers functioning educational, healthcare, transport systems and basic infrastructure. In failing to do so, the state, as brilliantly put by Ali Riaz and Subho Basu in Paradise Lost? (2007), becomes a “bandit” and its operations “uncoordinated competitive theft” by a group of “roving bandits.” It is this historical blunder that has plagued the Nepali polity for so long. It will indeed be a huge challenge to devise proactive mechanisms to convert theft into service delivery, banditry into good governance and roving bandits into serving statesmen. Unless changes are achieved on these fronts, it does not matter which system of governance is in place.
The author is with Republica’s op-ed team
mbpoudyal@yahoo.com
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