Starting a conversation about Nepal’s largest democratic party by legacy with a philosophical paradox from the civilization where discussions of democracy first began can be an interesting way to begin. It is the story of the Ship of Theseus, which the Athenians preserved by gradually replacing its old parts with new ones. In this simple puzzle lies a deeply philosophical question that no one has ever been able to answer: when every single part of the ship is replaced, is it still the same old ship or a completely new one? And this is not only a question about the ship. It has also fuelled debates about identity, continuity and legacy in people, objects and even political institutions.
Thomas Hobbes later added a twist: what if someone collected all the discarded planks and screws and used them to build another ship? In that case, which would be the actual Ship of Theseus? Hobbes did not resolve the question of legacy; he simply showed that both claims to it could be valid.
Nepal’s oldest democratic party, a hundred days into its worst electoral defeat and bitterest internal fracture, is now being fought over by two factions. Both sides insist that they are “the ship” docked in the harbor. And this contradiction is not a new phenomenon in the Nepali Congress; it was there at its genesis.
The Nepali Congress was born as “a party built from two parties.” It was divided into factions even at the height of its success, yet it proved durable enough to outlast almost everything thrown at it for nearly eight decades. Understanding that contradiction is the only way to make sense of where the party stands today.
The Nepali Congress did not emerge as a single, coherent idea. BP Koirala himself was a believer in the subjectivity of truth, often repeating, “Truth is multidimensional.”
BP Koirala founded the Nepali National Congress in Calcutta in 1947 alongside democracy activists who had earlier been jailed by the Rana regime. Later, the party merged with Subarna Shamsher’s Nepal Democratic Congress to form what we now call the Nepali Congress. The merger was not a meeting of identical minds; it was a coalition of exiled aristocrats, jute mill union leaders, satyagrahis and young socialists, united mainly by the conviction that the Rana regime had to end. The party succeeded in its mission.
Thoughtful and gritty
The party’s development reached maturity at its sixth General Convention in 1956, held in Birgunj, where it adopted “democratic socialism” as its ideological foundation. This reflected the belief that political liberty alone could not address poverty and social injustices sustained by systemic marginalization and feudalism. Even then, it was a balancing act: a party striving to be simultaneously revolutionary and constitutional, socialist and parliamentary.
BP Koirala led the government on those founding ideals after the Congress won Nepal’s first parliamentary election with a two-thirds majority. The Nepali Congress still takes pride in the revolutionary land reform program initiated by that cabinet. It was an ambitious effort at social modernization that later chipped away at entrenched feudal interests. When BP was incarcerated and the party was blatantly banned, the Nepali Congress survived three decades of partyless Panchayat rule on the legacy of its 18-month-long cabinet.
When the 1990 Jana Andolan restored multiparty democracy, the party’s competing factions again fought to consolidate power. Krishna Prasad Bhattarai led the interim coalition, while Girija Prasad Koirala led the party to a majority in the 1991 election. The party’s post-democracy history reads like a near-comic catalogue of self-inflicted wounds. From losing its majority government to the CPN-UML in 1994 to the split that produced the Nepali Congress (Democratic) in 2002, which was reunified only in 2007, the Congress has shown an extraordinary record of contradictions and instability. Nevertheless, it has often remained united in the face of national urgency and crisis.
It would be a misjudgment to view factionalism in the Nepali Congress purely as a pathology, because the party’s own history argues otherwise. BP Koirala, in his later memoir Atmabrittanta, returned again and again to the idea of multifaceted truth. Tolerance for internal dissent is a feature of a democratic party, not a flaw.
There is also an old Nepali proverb: ek haat le taali bajdaina — one hand alone cannot clap. The Nepali Congress has never been led by a single hand. Whether it was the toxic feud between BP and Matrika, Ganesh Man Singh losing the presidency to Subarna Shamsher, the decades-long power struggle between Girija Babu and Kisunji, or later Deuba’s challenge to Koirala, none of it was tidy. Yet almost all of these struggles eventually produced leaders who were tested and shaped by genuine internal opposition rather than simply elevated without contest.
Factionalism has long been a way for the Nepali Congress to refresh its leadership. It has also provided space for strong internal critics, ensuring that the party did not become fixed around one leader for too long. Throughout the party’s history, the establishment often tried to corner opposition factions, but it never eliminated them. Even minimal space and opportunities were provided to keep dissenters within the fold. Today, however, the current leadership seems unwilling even to show gratitude for that tradition of accommodation.
In leadership, flexibility is a quality to be pursued, not rigidity. That tradition worked because all factions, even those that lost, remained within the party. The real test of the current crisis is whether that principle continues to hold true.
Recently, following the wave of Gen Z protests, the Nepali Congress held its Special Convention, leaving half of the party dissatisfied. The bitter disputes surrounding the convention not only deepened factionalism but also contributed to the party’s worst electoral defeat. Now Congress must confront the question of whether its tradition of internal dissent between supporters and opponents of the Special Convention can still bring renewal, or whether it has become a threat to the party’s survival.
Even though the leadership chosen at the Special Convention of the Nepali Congress has legal standing, questions about its political legitimacy remain. Hobbes’s logic comes to mind: what if all the sidelined groups form a new party? In that case, they too would carry a part of the Nepali Congress’s legacy.
The dissatisfied faction argues that at the “Special Convention,” from the Central Committee to the party president, every position was filled without a contested election. They also point to inconsistencies in how the committee members and other office holders were appointed. As a result, the convention seemed more like a coronation than a genuine contest.
Even the newly elected leadership appears to have left the party’s ideology behind. What is most striking is how far the party has already drifted from its founding principles. The current party president is trying to shift the Congress from “Democratic Socialism” to “Social Democracy.”
In democratic socialism, the state is expected to play a major role in ownership, planning and redistribution, while democracy is the mechanism through which the state remains accountable to the people. In social democracy, by contrast, the market largely remains intact. Congress was founded on the first promise, but its current president now appears to be reaching for the second.
Interestingly, the party’s main competitor in the same ideological space, the Rastriya Swatantra Party (RSP), also adopted “Social Democracy” at its recent General Convention in Chitwan. Two parties will now be competing for the same voters on essentially the same economic philosophy. Such a significant ideological shift away from a more than 70-year-old foundational legacy at least deserves open and honest discussion.
The Nepali Congress is at a crossroads today. Its long history shows that the party has endured coups, exile and internal rifts by holding on to its founding ideals while allowing space for dissent. But this time feels different: a terrible electoral defeat, deeper splits and an ideological shift that places Congress in direct competition with newer parties.
The future of the Congress will depend on whether it can rebuild internal trust, respect its roots and transform without losing its identity. The choice ahead will determine whether it remains relevant to Nepal’s democratic journey or fades away like the Praja Parishad.
The author is a Gen Z activist and an aspiring journalist.
