By Narayan Prasad Mishra
Being in my mid-eighties, I am now in the final stage of my life. Over the decades, I have had the opportunity to meet and exchange words with several of Nepal’s prime ministers, from Matrika Prasad Koirala, the first prime minister after the fall of the Rana regime in 1951, to Bishweshwar Prasad Koirala, the country’s first elected prime minister, to recently outgoing prime ministers K. P. Sharma Oli and Sher Bahadur Deuba. Only with the Maoist leader Pushpa Kamal Dahal ‘Prachanda’ did I ever have the chance to interact beyond seeing him from a distance.
Since I was never anyone’s follower or sycophant, I have never sought closeness or cultivated personal ties with any leader. In my conversations with those I met, I found no one to be particularly unfriendly, unreasonable or unpleasant. Even though I did not personally know many of the older generation, I came to learn about the joys, sorrows, poverty, and struggles of both Deuba and Oli through their close friends from their student and youth days. Many of these memories are still available on YouTube. For instance, one can still find conversations with Damodar Gautam, a Nepali Congress leader and close friend of Deuba, and Mohan Chandra Adhikari, a well-known communist leader and close friend of Oli. Listening to such recollections, it is impossible to believe that these leaders were unaware of the poverty in Nepal and the suffering of ordinary citizens beyond the reach of state power.
A photocopy of the dedication in Nepali as printed in the book.
Three leaders–Deuba, Oli, and Prachanda–ruled the country on multiple occasions over several years. They repeatedly claimed that Nepal had made significant progress under their leadership, that people’s suffering had been reduced, and that everything was safeguarded in the constitution. They declared that democracy had given equality and justice to the citizens, that good governance prevailed, and that democracy had brought happiness to everyone’s lives. They assured us that neither they nor their families were ever involved in corruption scandals, that government institutions functioned effectively, and that the rule of law was fully established.
I am not a man consumed by jealousy, hatred, or malice. I have never been attached to any political party—whether in the one-party era or today’s multiparty democracy. I have never sought nor received any benefits from them. It is neither in my nature nor in my need to speak lies. Yet, from the depth of my heart, I feel that these leaders are either unaware of the actual condition of the country, or they have knowingly ignored it, or else they have become entirely different persons from the struggling young men they once were. For in my conscience, I see not democracy but party-cracy. I agree that there is no lack of human rights or fundamental rights in the Constitution. However, they have only made them stay on paper, not in practice.
I see no democracy in offices, departments, ministries, the police, or the courts. At every moment, in every place, I experience that party leaders and cadres are treated as first-class citizens, while ordinary people like me are relegated to second-class status. They are above the law, immune to any corruption charges, and entitled to any benefit from the state. In contrast, the general people have no right to enjoy the rights recorded in the constitution and laws. In every office I have visited—transport, land revenue, survey, land reform, ward offices—I have rarely heard of work being completed without personal connections or bribes. From sand supply contracts to painting tenders, I have never heard of any deal being awarded outside the hands of party leaders, cadres, or bribe-takers.
From universities to constitutional bodies, everyone has witnessed the practice of dividing positions among political parties. For citizens like me, qualifications, skills, experience, knowledge, or creative work have never been enough to open doors to opportunity. I carry my own bitter memory: despite being only 49 years old in 1992, with 14 years of service remaining, and despite a career defined by knowledge, integrity, dedication, creativity, and scholarship, I was forced into early retirement from university service during the vice-chancellorship of Kedar Bhakta Mathema. I am not alone—many others, including my beloved wife Shanti Mishra, have suffered similarly. Yet most party leaders and their followers blindly supported these wrongdoings and enjoyed the benefits.
In 1981 (2038 B.S.), my wife, Shanti Mishra, and I co-authored a book in Nepali titled “An Outline of Library Science” (Pustakalaya Bigyanko Ruprekha). It was the first work ever written in Nepali on that subject. This was during the Panchayat era. Even in those times, we did not dedicate our book to any powerful king, minister, or prime minister. Instead, we offered it to the martyrs, inscribing the following words in their honor. Those lines alone are enough to show how deeply we believed in, and were committed to, democratic ideals. Nothing more needs to be said.
Dedication
Respectfully dedicated to the revered martyrs who joyfully sacrificed their lives for the welfare of the nation and its people, and to the admirable living individuals who, for the fulfillment of the martyrs’ wishes and aspirations, disregard their own comfort and peace.
Now, when I reflect on our retirement from university service, I often find myself thinking: surely the revered martyr Dharma Bhakta Mathema and the other brave martyrs did not ascend the gallows so that loyal and faithful servants of the nation could be pushed aside, nor so that a system driven by partisan interests and political authoritarianism could replace integrity with opportunism. Yet experiencing such a reality today brings a sorrow that is difficult to ignore.
Without fear or favor, I have continued to write against all these in the interest of the country and its people. How can ordinary citizens call this “good governance,” except for the sycophants of political parties? The corruption scandals—such as the fake Bhutanese refugee scam and numerous others—emerging almost every month, along with debates over whether files should be opened or closed, cannot possibly be considered signs of good governance. The frequent formation and collapse of coalition governments, occurring every six months to a year, is also not a mark of stability.
Meanwhile, the poor and economically vulnerable citizens continue to suffer from a lack of food, clothing, education, healthcare, electricity, and water. Remembering the poverty-stricken and humble lives these leaders once lived—as I have learned through YouTube—it is beyond my imagination how they can now remain blind to the real problems of ordinary people.
Perhaps it is for these very reasons that Gen Z recently revolted. Around 75 young people were martyred, hundreds were injured, and many were left maimed. Government offices, buildings, and the homes of leaders and party cadres were reduced to ashes. It was heartbreaking to witness such widespread destruction. This is no minor tragedy. As a result, we now have an interim government under the premiership of Madam Sushila Karki.
Gen Z has demanded good governance. The people, too, have demanded good governance. Until now, what our leaders and parties have proudly called “good governance” has been regarded by the public as bad governance. At this point, our leaders and parties should finally understand that what they have been practicing is not good governance but misgovernance. For this realization, I pray that God may open their minds.
To establish good governance, the rebels have demanded a system where, instead of the unstable coalition governments we have now, the prime minister is directly elected by the people. Interestingly, this is something that parties themselves have occasionally proposed in the past, and there seems little reason to oppose it. Likewise, the rebels have demanded that instead of the current federal system, a decentralized governance system be implemented—one in which all citizens across Nepal can access the same services and facilities available in Kathmandu. There is no reason to resist this demand either.
In addition, they have expressed hope for constitutional reforms to end the practice of party-based appointments in constitutional bodies and to restore true democracy. This, too, is necessary for good governance, and there seems little reason for opposition. Furthermore, it would undoubtedly benefit the country and its people to make one of the two highest positions—the President or the Prime Minister—non-political, in order to reduce the monopoly of power and strengthen the system of checks and balances. If some form of monarchy can be established, this problem will be automatically resolved. At the same time, it would be advantageous if the directly elected prime minister were allowed to appoint ministers not only among members of parliament but also a fixed number of experts from the country’s most respected professions.
Therefore, for the good of all, if all parties agree and support these reforms, there is hope that Nepal may finally move toward good governance and progress—this time without another round of destructive revolt.
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