Kautilya was a Machiavellian much before Niccolò Machiavelli had been born. Perhaps that could be the reason Chanakya’s thoughts on politics of deception gets prominence while his teachings about rightful conduct are often neglected. However, differences between the two masters of realpolitik are real. The mentor of Mauryas thinks of protecting the empire while Machiavelli’s main concern is promoting the interests of the Prince. Maoist Supremo Pushpa Kamal Dahal has proven himself to be a worthy disciple of the later, though he must have had Chanakya at the back of his mind when he read Machiavelli’s works in the light of Marxist interpretations. Mao Zedong would have been happy to see his self-proclaimed pupil thrive even in an extremely hostile geopolitical environment.
Dahal is justifiably proud of his organizational capabilities and felicity with techniques of rhetoric. During the 17th round of elections for the premiership of the country last week, he tested his theatrical abilities to drive home the point that he was still the most versatile star on political firmament of Nepal.
Artful dodgers
On the day of the voting, the Constituent Assembly appeared like a stage set for Shakespearean pathos. None of the three contenders left in the poll looked happy about their roles in the contest but played their part as if accursed to do so. The Nepali Congress nominee Ram Chandra Poudel told a long tale, full of sound and fury signifying nothing. By the time he stood to face lawmakers for the 17th time in a row—perhaps a world record—he should have known better than to berate CPN-UML leaders for inconsistencies in their policies. The old saw still holds: If you are duped for the first time, blame the trickster; the second time, situation may have been inherently adverse; but the third debacle warrants a close examination in the mirror. But being taken for a ride for six months and not coming to one’s senses? The feat is worthy of an honorable mention in the record books of simplistic politics.
Premier Jhalnath Khanal did not even pretend to be authentic. He perhaps realized that his part has been scripted for impact rather than for admiration. He made all the right noises about necessity of politics of consensus, completing the peace process and promulgating a new constitution in time, knowing fully well all the while that he would have little control over any of the activities that he had been asked to parrot on the floor of the house. To the credit of Khanal, he brought as much sincerity in his voice as was possible under the testing and tiring circumstances.
Maoist Supremo Pushpa Kamal Dahal has proven himself to be a worthy disciple of the later, though he must have had Chanakya at the back of his mind when he read Machiavelli’s works in the light of Marxist interpretations. Mao Zedong would have been happy to see his self-proclaimed pupil thrive even in an extremely hostile geopolitical environment.
Another aspirant for the thorny throne at Baluwatar was Bijaya Kumar Gachhadar, a perennial presence at cabinet meetings in Singh Durbar since the restoration of parliamentary democracy in 1990 but for a brief period of hibernation during the last phase of Chairman Gyanendra’s direct rule. He knew that he had to look aggrieved, show some bluster and troop out of the stage in mock anger. He played the cameo part to near perfection. Apparently, Gachhadar too is an accomplished actor. However, it is the production and direction abilities of Dahal that deserves a standing ovation. He is a real virtuoso.
It helped that Dahal had scripted the play and was directing its enactment where few actors other than him knew the full story. The caretaker premier Madhav Kumar Nepal probably had prior knowledge of unfolding scenes and had a hard time suppressing his grin with a look of pretentious seriousness. Upendra Yadav’s fake ignorance smacked of his connivance in the dramatic production. It was Dahal, however, who excelled in displaying full range of emotions required in a presentation of epic proportions.
Shortly before voting began, there were reports that the Chairman of the largest party in the Constituent Assembly had shed tears in front of his own herd making a few others cry too. In the end, it was the conscientious note of dissent that proved to be a cry in the wilderness. Dahal had his way in getting the endorsement of his decision to back Khanal.
On the floor of the house, histrionics of Dahal smacked of impromptu professionalism that comes from a long and hard preparation. He admitted that he had been unable to sleep the previous night and had partially sunk eyes and carefully disheveled hair to show for it. During proceedings, he kept his gaze suitably lowered without conveying the negative message that he was not in control of the situation. His partially drooping shoulders and apologetic posture was probably meant for the consumption of his supporters.
For critics, the steel in his voice was unmistakable: The champion was leaving the field for an underling; to interpret it as an admission of defeat would be a huge mistake.
The Lost Generation
The Indian independence movement had inspired Nepali politicians born before 1950s and brought up in the heat of struggles against the Rana rule in the country. In those heady days, political ideologies were important, but it was idealism—the quality of believing that ideals should be pursued for their own sake with little or no regard for consequences—that fired the imagination of an entire generation. They were mostly impractical people.
BP Koirala spent long years in imprisonment and had to accept a slow and painful death. Pushpalal Pradhan died in exile—unheralded, unsung and reviled by the flock that was to lay claim to his political legacy in later years. Only King Mahendra knew the value of pragmatism. He conspired to produce a crop of politicos for whom ends would justify every means adopted for the betterment of one’s prospects in life. Politicos at the helms of affairs in the country mostly belong to the generation born between 1950s and 1960s. They are analogous to Salman Rushdi’s ‘Midnight’s Children’ of the Subcontinent and form the Lost Generation of Nepal.
Unlike its predecessors, most of youths of 1960s and 1970s did not have to go to Kashi, Prayag or Calcutta for education. They rode the post-Rana literacy wave and attended colleges in Birgunj, Rampur, Janakpur, Pokhara and Biratnagar, but mostly in Kathmandu Valley—the place that had turned into one gigantic platform of acquiring pelf and privilege through politics of fraudulence. With idealistic leaders in jail, parliament dissolved, constitution disbanded and political parties proscribed, these were the decades of ideological confusion. Only those people survived and thrived who imbibed values of compromise.
Tulsi Giri, Bishwa Bandhu Thapa, Keshar Jung Raymajhi and Surya Bahadur Thapa were ‘role models’ of successful politics for the generation that read Max and Marx but absorbed principles of political chicanery from its surroundings, perhaps even without realizing it. Messrs Dahal, Nepal and Khanal are all brilliant people; it is just that they grew up during decades of confusion when being ‘underground’ was considered a sacrifice and survival depended upon the ability to trick others. Majority of contemporary leaders of Nepali society and polity belong to this era of the lost generation. Their hearts are mostly in right place, they also possess sharp minds, but their souls have been lost somewhere in the melee of ideological vacuum filled by synthetic formulations of political expediency—the Panchayat democracy, the royal communism and revolutionary conservatism that held sway until late-1980s.
Dahal has taken a well calibrated and calculated risk in backing Khanal to the hilt, first in helping him become a party president and then get elected as premier of a coalition government. But no matter how well thought-out a decision of such a nature, politics without principles—something that Mahatma Gandhi called biggest of seven deadly sins—is still a gamble. If Dahal loses, he would lose big while his gains are likely to be transitory.
Before coming over-ground into competitive politics, Dahal had claimed that he wished to be a Gandhi and abstain from formal power structure. In their nativity, reporters interviewing him had suggested that the desire should be to become a Ganeshman Singh instead. Dahal had laughed at the innocent suggestion. The Gandhi he had in mind was Mrs Sonia, someone who exercises authority without having to bear any responsibility. His dream has finally come true, but Khanal is no Manmohan Singh and UML is not fully a party of schemers alone.
The challenge for Dahal in the coming days will lie in making sure that Khanal does not play the same trick that Premier Nepal played upon Girija Prasad Koirala and turn him superfluous in his own party. Whichever side the chip falls, coming days are going to be interesting in Nepali politics. Wily Kautilya would have been hugely amused by the antics of his clansmen in contemporary Nepal.
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