Spread the love

By Our Reporter

The RSP–Ujyalo Nepal alliance barely survived two weeks, and its collapse says a lot about how fragile personality driven politics has become in Nepal. The partnership was sold as a fresh challenge to old parties, but it fell apart over the oldest issues in politics, who gets what, who sits where, and who holds real control. Public statements talked about ideology and procedures, but inside the room it was about egos and status. The agreement looked like reform on the surface, but it rested on individuals, not systems. From day one, power sharing was vague, and RSP’s dominance was visible. That made the breakup less surprising and more a matter of timing.

The 7-point agreement drew language from the Gen Z protests of September 8 and 9, clean politics, merit-based politics, good governance.  It sounded right. But the structure told another story. Leadership roles were already fixed. Rabi Lamichhane stayed chair, while KulmanGhising and a few others were placed as vice chairs. For Ujyalo Nepal, this felt less like unity and more like being taken in as a junior partner. Equality was promised, but hierarchy was baked in.

Tension rose quickly. Ghising reportedly asked for the senior vice chair role. RSP said no, pointing to earlier commitments. Ujyalo Nepal also wanted one general secretary post. That too was off the table, already promised to the Balen Shah group. Then came arguments over central committee seats and proportional representation names. Numbers did not add up for Ujyalo Nepal. Selection did not reflect the talk of merit and public standing. Activists felt ignored. The gap between words and actions became too wide to hide.

By the time Ghising stepped back from talks, the issue was no longer just posts. It was about respect. He and his team felt their presence carried no weight. Walking away became a statement. Ujyalo Nepal chose to stand alone, with Ghising preparing to take charge as party chair.

This episode puts Ghising in an awkward spot. On one hand, critics may say he failed to manage a political deal and misread the balance of power. On the other, refusing to accept a secondary role could strengthen his image among supporters who value self-respect over quick gains. His reputation will now depend less on this failed alliance and more on how he builds his party from here.

For Ujyalo Nepal, independence brings clarity but also risk. The party can shape its own agenda and identity without being overshadowed. At the same time, it loses the reach, resources, and media attention that came with the RSP tag. Survival will depend on organization, messaging, and whether Ghising can convert his public image into votes.

RSP, meanwhile, keeps formal control but not without cost. The split exposes the limits of tight, top down decision making. It shows how hard it is to talk about inclusion while protecting fixed hierarchies. By refusing to adjust, RSP protected internal promises but weakened the larger idea of unity among reform forces. The message of clean and merit-based politics now sounds less convincing.

What remains is an uncomfortable question. Are new parties really changing political habits, or just repeating old ones with new faces. The RSP–Ujyalo breakup suggests that slogans travel faster than culture. Voters are watching closely, and patience is thinner than many leaders think.