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Wednesday, June 13, 2001
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After a decade of failed and corrupt democratic government, Nepal is set to explode -- and the palace massacre lit the fuse By Michael Luhan Ever peaceful, ever welcoming, ever generous, ever cheerful, the Nepalese are every foreign visitor's favorite people. They are the favorite guides of mountain climbers and trekkers, who often reward their faithful Sherpas with European educations, new homes and even marriage proposals. And then there are the fearsome Gurkhas of the British Army, every officer's favorite soldiers -- brave, disciplined, supremely conditioned and loyal to a fault, who through 176 years of fabled history have never failed to live up to their motto: Kaphar hunnu banda marnu ramro ("Better to die than to be a coward"). Half a million Gurkhas fought in the first and second World Wars, and in both wars combined, Nepal lost more combat dead on a per capita basis than any other country. British General Sir Francis Tuker rightly hailed this little-known fact as "selfless devotion to the British cause, which can hardly be matched by any race to another in the whole history of the world." More remarkable still is that Nepal was never colonized by the British, or any power, and Gurkha service has always been voluntary. Yet despite their martial ferocity, and despite comprising a mosaic of religious and ethnic groups, Nepalese have lived harmoniously without internal conflict since 1768, when the territory of petty kingdoms was united by conquest under the maharajdiraj, or "king of kings," who founded today's Shah dynasty. Tolerance and diversity are hallmarks of national character. Having myself lived in Nepal for six unforgettable years as a nepali jwai (son-in-law), who married into a noble family of Katmandu that ignored religion and caste to embrace me as one of their own, I can add that Nepalese are also kind, open-hearted and loving, the very best of relatives. I am thankful that fate allowed my two sons to live in Nepal during their first formative years of life and to imbibe these cardinal virtues with their mother's milk. For all these reasons and more, Nepal is virtually a world heritage site for human civility and honor. I always hoped that if aliens from space arrived on Earth one day, they would land in Nepal and get the best first impression of our species. In all likelihood they'd be garlanded with flowers and treated like American tourists, whom they might closely resemble. But that Nepal of lightness and wonder and affection may soon be doomed to memory. Like the Taliban's destruction of the Bamiyan statues, the wholesale massacre of the royal family on June 1 has effaced a critical link to Nepal's primordial identity. After a decade of failed and corrupt democratic government, and faced with an uncompromising Maoist insurgency that is now active in half the country, the nation is set to explode under pressure, and the palace massacre has lit the fuse. One-way trip In one sense, the murders are a Shakespearean tragedy of unfathomable darkness: A kindly and beloved king, killed by his own son in a deranged moment of vengeance for the queen's spiteful denial of his chosen bride. In another sense, however, the tragedy symbolizes the self-destruction of an archaic system of entitlement and privilege, one that failed to create a body of national values larger than itself and remained indifferent to the awesome and endemic poverty of the masses. For the Maoist insurgents, Crown Prince Dipendra's terrible auto da fe was an act of historical justice and inevitability that cleared the way for their new order. The king is dead, long live the proletariat! My father-in-law, Vishwa Bandhu Thapa, was among a handful of men who led Nepal into the 20th century. In a series of ministerial roles during the 1960s, he introduced the Peace Corps, Jesuit education, a national program of rural volunteer service for university graduates and, after visiting Israel, a cooperative movement modeled on the kibbutz. A close adviser to King Birendra's father who remained loyal to the monarchy, he was also a progressive democrat who understood the pressing need for modernizing reforms. When a popular uprising in 1990 ended three decades of direct palace rule and re-established parliamentary democracy, he estimated that Nepal had "five to 10 years" to make democracy work. Otherwise, he said, either the palace would again assert itself or the communists would. Those three options have now been reduced to one, and the consequences for Nepal's life and culture are unbearable to contemplate. I grieve not only for the man I affectionately called buwa (father), but also for the vision of a more just and prosperous Nepal that he struggled for so long to realize. Western policymakers should grieve as well, for if the new order comes it will add yet another dangerous element of instability to a highly volatile region. India went to war with China over a border dispute in 1962, and New Delhi will not idly stand by if Nepal, a neutral buffer zone between the two regional rivals, falls into communist hands -- especially when India is already seriously threatened on the west by Pakistan, a traditional ally of Beijing, and all three have nuclear capabilities. As inconceivable as it seems, the mythical land of Shangri-La could well beget the reality of Armageddon. -- The writer works for the People in Need Foundation, a Prague-based international aid and human-rights organization. Teaching out of hate's way Postview editorial Thoughts on the remains of a day, and night E-male |
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