By Dr. Janardan Subedi

Recently, someone accused me of being a rajawadi — a royalist. It’s not the first time I’ve been labeled in a way that seeks to confine my thoughts to an ideological box. In today’s volatile and polarized political climate, such labels are thrown around frequently, often without thoughtful reflection. While everyone has the right to express their emotions and perspectives, we must not forget that assumptions and presumptions about others demand critical thinking, fairness, and context.

As a lifelong student of sociology, I have learned to look beyond superficial categories. I respect anyone who loves society, treats fellow humans with compassion, and is loyal to their motherland. If a monarch or a common citizen shares that love, my admiration follows them equally. I do not belong to any ideological camp — neither a blind leftist nor an extreme rightist. For me, ideology is not a script written by political elites. Instead, it reflects the lived traditions, values, and social realities we inherit and negotiate daily.

This is not a convenient middle path. It is an intellectual position rooted in culture, shaped by experience, and held with the humility of sociological insight.

Culture and Ideology: A Sociological Reality

Sociologists know that ideology does not descend from the heavens. It emerges from within society — a product of history, language, religion, class, and daily life. As Peter Berger and Thomas Luckmann argued in The Social Construction of Reality, we are not passive receivers of ideology but active participants in shaping and reshaping it through culture.

In Nepal, the historical legacy of the monarchy is neither merely oppressive nor entirely glorious — it is complex. To respect certain monarchs for their vision or service to the country does not equate to blind royalism. For instance, King Birendra’s commitment to peace, sovereignty, and diplomacy cannot be dismissed. Likewise, ordinary people across Nepal often associate monarchy with continuity, stability, and cultural identity.

To immediately label such sentiments as ‘regressive’ is a sociological failure. It ignores the deep cultural roots of our collective memory and identity. Not all admiration is ideological. Sometimes, it is historical, emotional, or simply an acknowledgment of leadership once trusted and lost.

The Psychology of Labeling

From a psychological perspective, humans are wired to categorize. Our brains use shortcuts to make sense of a complex world. But these shortcuts — called cognitive heuristics — can lead to stereotypes and false judgments. When someone is labeled rajawadi, commie, or anti-national without careful listening, we fall prey to what psychologists call “confirmation bias” — the tendency to seek information that confirms our preexisting beliefs, rather than challenge them.

This tendency harms public dialogue. Labels turn individuals into abstractions. We stop seeing their full humanity. Instead of asking, ‘Why does this person believe what they believe?’, we dismiss them outright. This is not only lazy thinking; it is a failure of empathy.

Empathy requires effort. It demands the humility to recognize our own ignorance. Instead of boxing people into categories, we should open conversations with curiosity. Instead of judgment, we should offer inquiry. Not “What are you?” but “What do you care about, and why?”

Philosophical and Ethical Dimensions

This debate also has philosophical dimensions. The field of epistemology — the study of knowledge — asks: What does it mean to know something about another person? Can we truly understand someone’s beliefs without stepping into their cultural shoes?

Ethically, the philosopher Immanuel Kant reminds us to treat individuals not as means to an end, but as ends in themselves. That means we must see others as full beings, with their own stories, dignity, and reasons — not simply as tokens in our ideological chess games.

Moreover, critical thinking — a fundamental value in any democratic society — requires us to suspend our assumptions, weigh evidence, and seek truth. This means listening more than speaking, and asking more than asserting. If we skip this intellectual rigor, we fall into ideological reductionism. We flatten people into convenient categories. That is not just unwise — it is unjust.

The Dangers of Binary Thinking in Nepal

In Nepal, the dominance of binary thinking — royalist versus republican, federalist versus unitary, left versus right — has deeply fractured our national conversation. This polarization is not just political; it is cultural. It manifests in social media outrage, policy debates, street protests, and even in family discussions.

Our history is filled with nuance. To embrace this complexity is not indecision — it is wisdom. It means we can admire King Birendra’s commitment to peace without endorsing every aspect of monarchical rule. It means we can appreciate democratic ideals while criticizing the corruption of republican governance. It means we can support social justice without parroting imported ideologies.

Nuance is not a weakness. It is the foundation of real democracy.

Objective Assessment as a Democratic Virtue

What does it mean to assess someone objectively? It means refusing to judge them based on hearsay, tribal loyalty, or political fashions. It means considering their arguments, understanding their context, and asking what motivates their vision for Nepal.

Objective assessment involves:

– Cultural Context: Recognizing that identity and belief are shaped by history and social experience.

– Empathetic Listening: Valuing where someone is coming from before judging where they are going.

– Evidence-Based Reasoning: Grounding claims in facts, logic, and open dialogue.

– Moral Integrity: Refusing to reduce people to tools or threats based on our convenience.

If we embrace objective assessment as a national habit, our political conversations would become deeper, more humane, and more fruitful. We could disagree passionately while still honoring one another’s humanity.

Who Am I, Then?

I often reflect on how quickly society seeks to define us. But who gets to decide our identity? Are we not more than the sum of our political beliefs?

So when someone asks me, “Who are you?” my answer is this:

I am the water of a flowing river. Whoever draws from me — be it for agriculture, worship, healing, or survival — I become exactly what the moment requires. I am not fixed. I am not stagnant. I am not confined by any single form. My essence is to serve, to flow, and to adapt without losing my depth.

This is not ideological vagueness. It is cultural wisdom. It is the Nepaliness in me that honors tradition, embraces change, and refuses to be trapped by rigid binaries. I am the child of a country that is both ancient and evolving. And I will always stand for truth, compassion, and dignity — wherever they are found.

Dr. Subedi is a Professor of Sociology at Miami University, Ohio, USA.

Himalayan Tribune