Since the abolition of the monarchy, Nepal’s democratic processes have continually faced significant frustrations—primarily driven by human error, which remains the core issue.
The real challenge is rooted in a political culture where everyone’s version of the facts is regarded as equally valid.
In such an environment, ongoing disagreements over contentious issues persist, experts are marginalized, and the broader public’s concerns are frequently ignored.
It’s hardly surprising that exercising power can sometimes lead to abuse—that is, the misuse of authority without proper justification, often serving corporate and politicized interests that are disproportionately empowered. Such individuals often present themselves as exceptionally agreeable and never show remorse for their actions.
They ignore established rules and continually undermine democratic principles with outright fabrications. This behavior is as flawed as the elitist schemes designed to serve their own agendas, influenced by bias from various sources.
Whether the issue is outright abuse or illegitimate claims to authority, the bigger concern is that, without limits, democracy itself can become distorted in ways that worsen rather than resolve political and social problems.
When examining political processes, the ongoing and deliberate shifting of truth from one reality to another is clearly noticeable and appears at least as an ego boost or hypocrisy: there was no real reason why their opinion mattered. That said, I acknowledge the ongoing puzzle: some democracies succeed while others fail.
Nepal must emphasize structured methods and dependable tools to organize vital debates, encourage exploration, and gather diverse opinions. These carefully considered perspectives should then be used to amend existing constitutional provisions—rather than depending on the “Google-ization” of knowledge, characterized by haphazard or random discovery.
Another perspective unveils an even harsher reality. Until the Gen-Z movement recently challenged their dominance, Nepal’s ruling class operated as a pure oligarchy, driven almost entirely by self-interest.
What was lacking, as George Orwell pointed out, was the foundation of a healthy social system: a mix of honesty, decency, prosperity, and liberty—with decency at its heart. Equally vital is recognizing that Nepal’s political and economic power structures remain heavily unrepresentative. Old patronage networks still hold sway, resembling what the German philosopher Max Weber famously called ‘patrimonialism.’
Some describe Sushila Karki as an ‘open book’—honest, transparent, and straightforward. I must admit that I do not know her personally, nor do I fully understand the exact path that led her to prominence. Still, in the broader context of Nepali politics, such details might seem like minor scenes in a much larger story.
What is clear, however, is that while a reputation for honesty can garner public sympathy, politics and governance require much more than personal virtue. In politics, power often relies on carefully managing appearances and relationships, but it is not a game to be played carelessly. As Robert Greene notes in The 48 Laws of Power (1998), one should judge opponents not by their stated intentions but by the tangible results of their actions.
Patience can protect leaders from costly mistakes, but it is also vital to understand that people frequently rationalize their behavior, portraying self-interest as virtue. Human behavior is thus marked by complexity that resists simple interpretation, even after prolonged observation.
Niccolò Machiavelli wisely reminds us in The Prince that in the early 1500s, the challenges faced by a new regime are rarely straightforward. The main goal of any new government is to build support, but such loyalty is often fragile, rooted in personal or factional interests rather than genuine dedication to the national good.
In Nepal, this pattern has repeatedly emerged since the restoration of democracy and the end of the monarchy. Political parties and leaders often come to power not just through merit or a clear majority, but by forming coalitions of convenience—alliances that are inherently unstable and susceptible to betrayal.
Here, I highlight one of Abraham Lincoln’s most enduring insights: “You destroy an enemy when you make a friend of him.” In the Nepali context, this idea is especially relevant to Sushila Karki, who now plays a significant role in public discourse.
As she begins a new chapter—surrounded by allies who supported her journey to the Supreme Court and adversaries she will inevitably face—her ability to manage these relationships will be essential.
Egalitarianism, in this context, should be regarded not just as rhetoric but as a dedication to a broad, inclusive form of political liberalism. A monopolistic or exclusionary political system cannot foster a tolerant or constructive environment.
The real challenge for Karki is to demonstrate measurable progress, ensuring that personal networks do not compromise the impartial pursuit of justice.
Authoritarian rulers often position themselves as extensions of patriarchal authority, exercising control through fiat, hierarchical commands, and disciplinary measures. In Weberian terms, such authority reflects the dominance of traditional and charismatic legitimacy over rational-legal forms of governance (Weber, 1922).
From a Foucauldian perspective, this dynamic highlights how power operates not only through overt coercion but also through disciplinary mechanisms that normalize obedience and reinforce hierarchical control (Foucault, 1975).
This facility has no ties to the Karki government, and the challenge isn’t just about her judicial stature but also her ability to navigate the complex network of allies who supported her rise and the opponents she will inevitably face. Her credibility depends on whether she can maintain principled independence from both sides.
If she yields to those who helped her advance or spares those who should be held accountable, her ability to deliver impartial judgments on national issues will be greatly compromised. At this point, personal loyalties, grudges, or pressure for expediency must not override the fundamental duty of justice.
What Karki is not, however, is a political catalyst. She is neither a mobilizer nor a bridge-builder, and she lacks the political momentum needed to prompt rapid change. True transformation demands mass mobilization—an energy capable of holding every previous government accountable, as young Nepalis now demand.
While optimism about the future is widespread, Karki does not have the mandate or the strategy to reshape the 2015 constitution. She is also not in a position to launch the bold reforms that could accelerate Nepal’s journey toward prosperity in ways that earlier generations might have believed impossible.
Nepal’s current political situation is not a groundbreaking shift like Galileo’s discovery of Jupiter’s moons in 1610; instead, it is a chaotic and complex struggle led by entrenched, power-hungry oligarchs.
The main question is whether Karki’s rise indicates a true institutional shift, or if she has simply been promoted as a figure that elites believe they can manipulate for their own benefit.
What is clear is that the Nepali public is no longer satisfied with symbolic gestures or lofty rhetoric. Citizens are demanding decisive action, starting with faster judicial processes against those who, since 2008, have siphoned off national resources and overseen policies that have cost thousands of lives.
Any serious accountability process must begin with the most prominent figures—Khadga Prasad Oli, Sher Bahadur Deuba, and Pushpa Kamal Dahal—whose legacies are deeply linked to corruption, institutional decline, and the erosion of public trust. Their leadership has systematically weakened the state’s capacity while increasing Nepal’s dependence on external actors.
They did not govern as statesmen aiming to strengthen national institutions, but as political tacticians focused on short-term survival and maintaining foreign support.
The danger, then, is clear: if Karki does not exercise caution, the momentum for egalitarian reform—so closely linked to popular aspirations—could diminish. Her ability to stay independent from her allies and adversaries will determine her effectiveness.
Any failure to do so would threaten her capacity to act impartially on national issues. At such a moment, personal ties, vendettas, or the lure of expediency must never overshadow the duty to uphold justice and accountability for systemic wrongdoing.
The more fundamental question is why Karki was promoted to prime minister in the first place. If her reputation is the cornerstone of her political support, reputation alone cannot ensure legitimacy.
Authority in politics demands more than personal character; it must be anchored in institutional safeguards and a strategic vision. To compare appearances of virtue with genuine reform is inadequate and misleading.
Political life may require the illusion of civility, fairness, and democracy, but when appearance is disconnected from reality, it risks becoming merely a façade.
Karki’s appointment raises an important question: does it indicate true institutional reform, or is it simply a continuation of old political practices disguised as judicial virtue? The downfall of individual leaders does not diminish the importance of political parties in democracy.
The issue isn’t with the parties themselves but with the elites who have drained them for personal gain. Nepal’s urgent task is to reclaim these institutions, remove corrupt actors, and restore them as genuine reflections of the public will. Only through such renewal can a constitution be built that truly serves citizens with dignity, respect, and accountability.
If Karki’s rise is seen as necessary, she should avoid another cycle of elite-driven compromise and instead advocate for a more inclusive approach. An all-party political conference—including King Gyanendra, the emerging Gen-Z generation, and other key stakeholders—could have provided a platform to address Nepal’s most divisive constitutional issues: monarchy, federalism, and the Hindu state.
Resolving these through a national referendum held alongside the general election would have been both legally sound and politically prudent, anchoring legitimacy in the people rather than in elite maneuvering.
At stake is not only her reputation but also the potential to redefine power in Nepal: the ability to take initiative, press others to respond, and keep opponents on the defensive while promoting the public good.
Nepal must emphasize structured methods and dependable tools to organize vital debates, encourage exploration, and gather diverse opinions. These carefully considered perspectives should then be used to amend existing constitutional provisions—rather than depending on the “Google-ization” of knowledge, characterized by haphazard or random discovery.
Such an approach, while highly democratic and egalitarian, carries certain risks. A system firmly rooted in popular sovereignty may sometimes hinder the development of authority. On one hand, this can prevent attempts at authoritarian overhaul; on the other, it could cause instability by lacking a clear mechanism for decisive leadership during urgent situations.
Ultimately, effective leadership requires more than just institutional setup. It calls for restraint, discernment, and strategic patience. In Nepali politics, leadership often stumbles when decisions are swayed by unchecked emotions or impulsive reactions.
While such actions may bring short-term satisfaction, they weaken institutions and diminish public trust over time. Leaders who combine moral courage with strategic patience—those who see beyond appearances to the true consequences of their actions—are best suited to promote justice and the national interest in an environment where loyalties are fragile, ambitions are fierce, and political competition is relentless.
Karki’s leadership should therefore be judged not by her personal openness but by her ability to transcend entrenched political games. Her real challenge is to deliver accountability, institutional reform, and a democratic reset that aligns with the aspirations of the Nepali people.
At stake is not only her reputation but also the potential to redefine power in Nepal: the ability to take initiative, press others to respond, and keep opponents on the defensive while promoting the public good.
@KH
