Nothing to smile about
Dec 2nd 2004 | KATMANDU
From The Economist print edition
King, politicians and Maoists fiddle while Nepal burns
PROSPECTS for peace to calm Nepal's nine-year-old Maoist rebellion look as bleak as ever. The government has set a deadline of January 13th for the Maoists to enter talks. If they refuse, it says it will step up its military campaign and?bizarre threat?hold an election. The Maoists, recognising that the ?constitutional forces? (the monarchy and the political parties) are in disarray, have spurned the ultimatum. A bloodier phase looms in a conflict that has claimed more than 10,000 lives.
The Maoists refuse to talk to the monkey?the government of Sher Bahadur Deuba, the prime minister?while the organ grinder, King Gyanendra, who appointed it, snubs them. Since sacking a government, also led by Mr Deuba, two years ago, the king has ruled through a succession of nominees. None has commanded legitimacy or respect.
Parliament remains dissolved, though one of the tasks the king set Mr Deuba was to arrange the election of a new one by the end of April next year. Of the other items on his royally-imposed mission statement, one?to form a multi-party government?Mr Deuba has managed. Its biggest constituent is a moderate communist party called the UML (Unified Marxist-Leninist), many of whose cadres are deeply unhappy at its joining the government. The third task?to achieve peace?is beyond this government, partly because the king himself is helping to thwart its efforts.
The Maoists make hay out of the differences among and within the political parties, which constantly subdivide, and between the parties and the monarchy. ?It is a duel on the deck of the Titanic,? says Kunda Dixit, editor of the Nepali Times, a weekly newspaper. The Maoists claim to control four-fifths of the country. That is an exaggeration. But it is true that the government does not exist in most rural areas and the vacuum is partially filled by roaming Maoist extortionists. The state's only representative is often a lonely school teacher, subject to harassment and possibly murder from one side or the other.
In these circumstances, the government's threat to hold an election looks hollow. But, it points out, if you can hold one in Afghanistan, why not Nepal? In the absence of peace talks, however, it is the Maoists who have staked out the democratic high ground. Their basic demand is for an elected assembly to draft a new constitution. Many of the parties are now prepared to accede to the demand. But the king, knowing this is a polite way of phrasing a republican ambition, will not.
So Nepal's agony seems endless. The gains made in living standards since 1990, when the monarchy gave up much of its power, have been squandered. According to figures published this week by the Asian Development Bank, Nepal, with an annual national income per head of just $241, is the world's 12th-poorest country. It is, however, top of one international league table: for unexplained disappearances. The Maoists abduct people in their thousands. But hundreds also vanish into the army's clutches. The poverty, inequality and ethnic and caste discrimination that fuelled the Maoist rebellion persist.
The Maoists, however, seem to have lost much of the popular backing they once enjoyed. Pushka Gautam, a Katmandu-based writer who was a Maoist commander until he defected in 2000, says they now rely on fear. The government has been much encouraged by a rebellion against Maoist exactions, such as forced conscription, in the district of Dailekh, once one of their strongholds. The Maoists have even apologised for the gruesome retribution that followed. The rise in abductions also smacks of weakness.
The Maoists have also, in recent months, changed their propaganda. They are now trying to whip up nationalist fervour against what they say is imminent Indian intervention on the king's behalf. They have even started trench- and tunnel-digging in some areas to prepare for Indian bombing. This is good propaganda, as well as providing defensive positions should the Nepali army mount a serious attack.
The Maoists are right that, since a new government took over in Delhi in May, Nepal has assumed a higher priority for India, because of the links it sees between Nepal's Maoists and its own Maoist rebellions and secessionist groups. Direct military intervention remains improbable because of its likely regional repercussions. But India faces a dilemma. Like America, it is arming and training the Nepalese army, which is under the king's command.
This helps contain the Maoist threat. But it also bolsters those in the king's camp who think that a military victory is possible and might be easier if the trappings of democracy were jettisoned. The information minister, seen as the king's man in the cabinet, has dropped hints of a more ?authoritarian? government. Many human-rights activists and politicians in Katmandu expect the king and army to assume more direct power and, blaming the war, to suspend many civil liberties.
The consensus in Katmandu is that neither side can win a decisive victory. But Maoist hardliners may also harbour notions that a military campaign can bring triumph or strategic advantage. So far, the outside world has not done a good job of convincing either the king or the Maoists that accommodation is the best option.
