Nepal: The king speaks his mind
By Dhruba Adhikary
KATHMANDU - Peace accords signed in preceding months helped Maoist leaders find
a place in Nepal's first interim legislature in mid-January, but their desire
to create yet another bit of history by becoming a part of an interim
government is as elusive as ever.
Prime Minister Girija Prasad Koirala, who heads a caretaker government of a
Seven Party Alliance, is reluctant to induct former Maoist insurgents in the
government until their weapons as well
as combatants are registered with United Nations peace monitors.
And the process has not been smooth, amid independent media reports saying the
rebels have handed in only half of the weapons they possess. In a related
development, the UN Mission in Nepal (UNMIN) expressed concerns on Wednesday
when Maoist combatants in Chitwan left their designated cantonment in large
numbers. It amounted to a breach of the agreement concluded in December for
monitoring of arms and armies.
While a lack of trust between the Maoists and partners in the Seven Party
Alliance and among the political parties belonging to the alliance has been an
element delaying the peace process, significant hindrance surfaced last week in
the form of a hullabaloo originating in the palace of "suspended" King
Gyanendra.
Defying restrictive provisions of the interim constitution, enacted on January
15, he issued a message addressed to "my beloved countrymen" on February 19. In
it he defend his coup of February 2005, saying he had been compelled to take
the step "in accordance with the people's aspirations". Gyanendra also refused
to admit that a pro-democracy movement forced him to restore, through a
proclamation last April 24, the country's Parliament, which was prematurely
dissolved in May 2002.
The underlying tone of the message was that he would not accept measures
employed to remove him (and the monarchy) from Nepal's political landscape. He
selectively used words to rebuke politicians and their parties, simultaneously
praising the Nepali people who, he thought, were the source of all state
powers.
These polite words, however, could not impress the 330-member interim
legislature - the institution supposed to represent the people's collective
will. On the contrary, members of the assembly perceived Gyanendra's message as
an affront to the people, and passed a unanimous resolution on Wednesday
describing the king's statement as unconstitutional, unauthorized and
undemocratic. The Koirala government was directed to take appropriate action.
Some of the deputies want Nepal to be declared a republic forthwith. The
interim charter stipulates that the fate of monarchy will be decided by the
first meeting of the Constituent Assembly, the polls for which have to be held
by June.
Bickering among the political parties, inadequate election laws and inability
of the Election Commission to announce a date for the polls have intensified
the uncertainty.
Apprehensions abound. "The fact that a suspended king made a statement ...
means he is challenging the people," top Maoist leader Pushpa Kamal Dahal (aka
Prachanda) told an audience in the eastern town of Biratnagar immediately after
the king's message was broadcast.
Prachanda's denunciation of conspiracies against democracy lent credence to
demands for an immediate declaration making Nepal a republic. Analysts blame
the governing alliance as well as the legislators for their lackluster
performance in the preceding months, giving Gyanendra an opening to attract the
attention of an ambivalent population. Events in the past decade have also
proved that political parties have not been effective in mobilizing masses.
Those in favor of retaining monarchy in some ceremonial form contend that as a
citizen of Nepal, Gyanendra too has a right to speak his mind. After all, he
too was concerned with the "sovereignty and integrity" of the country.
Speculation that in the course of his privileged communications Koirala might
have approved the king's interest to address the people has been denied by his
colleagues. But Koirala himself has conspicuously refrained from reacting to
these developments.
Considerable significance, however, was attached to what Prime Minister Koirala
did a day after Gyanendra's controversial message was aired. The eyes of
Kathmandu were focused on the televised reports on two early-morning visitors
to Koirala's official residence. The first visitor was Rookmangud Katawal,
chief of the 100,000-strong Nepalese Army. The second person was omnipresent
Shiv Shankar Mukherjee, the Indian ambassador to Nepal. One represented an
institution responsible for defending the country's sovereignty, and the other
was the envoy from an influential neighbor with which Nepal shares a porous and
unregulated border more than 1,800 kilometers long.
Violence last month in some of the border districts was believed to have been
instigated by some Hindu fundamentalist groups operating from Indian territory.
What became palpable during that agitation was that some of the groups
belonging to Terai (southern plains), known as Madhesi, raised separatist
slogans. These factors obviously become an additional challenge to Koirala, who
remains committed to institutionalize multiparty democracy by bringing Maoist
insurgents into the political mainstream.
Ailing Koirala, at 86, has been facing severe criticism from the people at
large for having failed to maintain law and order by stopping Maoist-related
extortion, abductions, attacks and killings. Recurring transport and labor
strikes together with cases of simmering ethnic unrest amount to a formidable
challenge that a police force with low morale is unable to handle.
Koirala's commitment to human rights and democracy appears unflinching.
However, if some of his recent statements are to be taken into account, he
prefers to give priority to the issues that could pose a threat to national
unity and independence. This was strikingly evident when Louise Arbour, who
heads the UN Commission on Human Rights, visited Nepal last month.
In her meeting with Koirala on January 20, Arbour referred to increasing cases
of human-rights violations. Koirala attentively listened to some of her
concerns but did not hesitate to add a few remarks in an enhanced voice. He
told her he could not think of compromising on serious matters pertaining to
the country's sovereignty, territorial integrity and unity.
Coincidentally, army chief Katawal's views are not markedly different from
those of the prime minister. In the address to his fellow officers and soldiers
on Army Day, February 16, General Katawal pledged not to compromise on issues
having to do with Nepal's independence, integrity and sovereignty.
In the meantime, he made it clear that the army would honor the supremacy of
the civilian authority. This assurance was ostensibly added to allay fears that
Koirala and other politicians possibly have about the army, which remained
loyal to the king until a new army law cut off its traditional linkages a few
months ago. The law abolished the system whereby the king was the
commander-in-chief of what then was the Royal Nepalese Army.
The king also used to be the one taking the Army Day salute. That tradition was
abandoned this year. With the commencement of new law, the Nepalese Army's role
has changed from a ceremonial one to that of a functional standing force. The
experience men and women in uniform gained over a decade of Maoist insurgency
at home and peacekeeping missions abroad has been a foundation for their
enhanced confidence.
Provisions of the peace agreements signed with Maoist rebels require soldiers
to stay in their barracks, at least until the Constituent Assembly elections.
On a reciprocal basis, the army also has to place an equal amount of weapons
under the supervision of UN monitors.
This is a visible constraint to the Nepalese Army. Despite this, General
Katawal has kept the army under his command and in a state of readiness. Had
the situation in the southern plains become aggravated last month in the course
of Madhesi agitation, the army would have mobilized several units as an "aid to
civilian authority". Information on this preparedness came through a
controversial speech one of General Katawal's deputy commanders gave at a
function held in the tourist town of Pokhara early this month.
Since the speech delivered by Brigadier Dileep Rana contained critical remarks
about politicians who, in his opinion, were responsible for the instability the
country underwent after restoration of democracy in 1990, it sparked a major
uproar as some politicians took it as an ominous sign of an army takeover.
Rana was recalled from duty and his promotion to a senior rank was canceled.
This was a punitive action, apparently taken to pacify the instant resentment
witnessed in civilian circles. "Our profession does not allow us to engage in
politics," Katawal said in a speech afterward.
This statement amounts to a promise that the Nepalese Army is unlikely to
intervene in the country's political process. But it would be preposterous to
assume that the army would not take notice of trends and tendencies in politics
and allow further anarchy and disorder. Conversations with some senior officers
in the past few weeks have led this correspondent to a conclusion that no
number of peace agreements would convince them that Maoists have given up the
path of violence to capture power.
And it would be sheer foolishness to believe that once firmly in the saddle
they would not take measures to turn Nepal into a communist state - a state
where freedom of association and speech and other democratic rights are denied
to the people.
That suspicions are not totally unfounded was underscored by the remarks made
by one of the senior Maoist leaders, Chandra Prakash Gajurel (aka Gaurav), on
February 2 at an interaction organized by a group of Nepali students of
Jawaharlal Nehru University in the Indian capital, New Delhi. Gajurel told his
audience that the Maoist decisions to join the interim legislature and maintain
a soft policy in relations with India were only a part of its grand strategy.
He also revealed that the Maoist People's Liberation Army, which initially had
about 10,000 combatants, now fielded 37,000. Gajurel, who heads the
foreign-relations cell of his party, also mentioned a plan to launch an urban
insurgency should the Maoists be unable to obtain the objective through
parliamentary exercises.
Gajurel's disclosures were made at a closed-door session (in the context of
criticism of Indian Maoists who thought that in their greed for power Nepali
Maoists were abandoning the revolutionary path). But the searching eyes of
media did not leave the New Delhi encounter unnoticed.
An emerging scary scenario suggests that the army's intervention at some point
could be unavoidable. Such an intervention might not be in the form of a coup
as in Thailand or in Fiji where tanks took to the street. Men and women who
know that General Katawal was once Pakistani President General Pervez
Musharraf's classmate tend to predict a Pakistani-style coup, but analysts with
a more mature approach think of a Bangladeshi model.
Bangladeshi army generals asked President Iajuddin Ahmed to declare a state of
emergency on January 11, just days before elections planned for January 22, to
avert an election that was sure to become violent. Basic civil rights were
suspended and a caretaker government consisting of technocrats was appointed.
Political parties and their leaders have been sidelined for a while, and took
measures to bring corrupt ones among them to justice. No Western diplomatic
mission in Dhaka issued any statement to register a protest over the army
intervention. If what a British newspaper, The Economist, reported is true, the
United Nations even gave the Bangladesh Army a nudge in the shape of a warning
that if it participated in a biased poll it might lose contracts to provide
peacekeepers to the UN.
Nepal's history does not provide examples of the army staging a coup on its
own. It has worked on the king's orders, in 1960 and again in 2005. As the king
is no longer in a position to repeat the play even if he wanted to, there
appears a possibility of Koirala, who is also in charge of the Ministry of
Defense, directing the army to move should it become necessary to declare a
state of emergency. In present circumstances, it is difficult to expect a fair
poll for the Constituent Assembly in the midst of Maoist intimidation.
How would India and the United States react if the army acted to prevent a
Maoist takeover? What would be the Chinese stance? Who would the diplomats of
European Union blame if such a major development took place?
What would they do should an army takeover become inevitable? It is clear that
an army mandate usually runs out in time, whereas the implications of a Maoist
takeover can be as unpredictable as its strategies.
Dhruba Adhikary, who has been a Dag Hammarskjold fellow, is a
Kathmandu-based journalist.
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