Cross purposes

"Shock and awe" seem to have been King Gyanendra's tactic during the recent coup, but it seems to have worked in ways entirely unanticipated, both by the king and by his opponents

Dinesh Prasain Kathmandu

Following King Gyanendra's royal coup of February 1, 2005, royalist sympathisers hoped that his "shock and awe" tactics would annihilate the Maoists and permanently paralyse parliamentary opposition. The ground reality, alas, is different.

Shock and awe are evident, but elsewhere. The Maoists stepped up their operations in the countryside and on the highways as the king and his army remained preoccupied with taking over and chasing unarmed journalists, parliamentary party activists, students, human rights activists and writers. The Maoists shocked and awed the royal-military establishment and the elite in Kathmandu. With ease, they displayed that just another piece of raw rhetoric broadcast through national television and radio, cutting off phone lines and Internet services, and muzzling the media did not change the ground reality in rural Nepal, where the Maoists have developed independent communications systems and fortified their bases. The Maoists imposed an indefinite embargo on the capital, closed all highways, attacked government offices in broad daylight, and ambushed army trucks. Their demand for a constituent assembly has become generalised. Those who claimed to be anti-dictatorship found themselves unable to simultaneously oppose the Maoists and advocate the continuation of a despotic monarchy.

February 1, perhaps, did not shock and awe the Nepalis as much as imagined, because they have been experiencing despotism under Gyanendra since June 1, 2001, the day of the royal massacre. The Emergency in Nepal began in November 2001 and never really ended, sliding into the formal takeover by the king on October 4, 2002 and culminating in the recent dramatic military-palace coup.

It was clear to democratic and Left forces that the abolition of the monarchy was necessary, for that alone would pave the way for structural changes in the political framework and make it inclusive, secular, federal, and sustaining. The Maoists were not the only ones to raise the demand: the process of the polarisation of political forces between those who were clear about the main obstacles towards substantial democracy and those who were not is of respectable vintage. February 1 merely accelerated an ongoing historical process. Those who have aligned with the monarch and army in the recent past have ruined their own credibility.

In a way, Gyanendra has become a King Midas in Nepali politics. The fortunes of those he touches invariably change, for the better or for the worse. Former prime minister Girija Koirala was once one of post-1990 Nepal's most despised politicians for his closeness to the king, not only among the Leftists but also within his own Nepali Congress (NC). Then, after Koirala began his blunt bites against Gyanendra, his popularity skyrocketed. If he is again perceived to be compromising with the king, he will soon be as discredited as the twice former prime minister Deuba.

Meanwhile, student leaders like Gagan Thapa, Kundan Kafle, Rajendra Rai and Ram Kumari Jhankri became so popular for their unequivocal support for a democratic republic of Nepal that powerful factions in the party leadership felt threatened enough to clip their wings. Second- or third-level leaders in the NC and the Communist Party of Nepal (United Marxist-Leninist) saw a dramatic upsurge in their popularity for taking the intellectual lead in explaining how a democratic republic can and should be possible in Nepal.