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Late in June, the federal government brought together in Kathmandu the honorary general consuls of Nepal in different countries, spending more than Rs 12 million to host them and to inform about Nepal. As the invitations were sent out only days before the start, only 21 of 64 honorary consul generals could make it. These are people appointed by the government of Nepal to promote the country’s interest abroad. Unlike ambassadors and consulate generals,
they are not paid.

Nepali ambassadors abroad were not amused as the government had invited them without prior consultations with them. As Non Resident Nepalis with little diplomatic experience are these days appointed as honorary consuls, the Foreign Ministry sees them as pretty much useless. The shambolic Kathmandu jamboree did nothing to improve their image.

Madan Kumar Bhattrari, a former foreign secretary, advises that such gatherings be held at or near the countries were these consuls serve, or if the program is to be held in Nepal, they be given enough time to prepare.

As per the Vienna Convention, the post should go to those who have close understanding of the country/society they are based in. This is why, says Mohan Krishna Shrestha, a former chief of protocol at the foreign ministry, foreigners instead of Nepalis are best placed to promote Nepal abroad.

Currently NRNs serve as honorary consuls in Australia, Canada, Belarus, Cyprus, Portugal, the US and Germany. They seem to have no responsibility besides catering to high-level Nepali dignitaries when they go visit these countries. This is also the reason foreigners are not interested in taking up the job.

During the Kathmandu gathering, Prime Minister KP Oli urged the honorary consuls to promote Nepal as a tourism destination ahead of the ‘Visit Nepal 2020’ and to create a conducive environment for the realization of the slogan “Prosperous Nepal, Happy Nepali”.

The gathering highlighted the country’s political situation, the aspect of tourism promotion, and economic diplomacy. But the honorary consuls, who are appointed on a purely political basis, are in no position to achieve these goals. They are often completely divorced from the realities of the countries and cities they are based in.
Nepal has diplomatic ties with 166 countries. There are 30 Nepali Embassies, three Permanent missions of Nepal to the United Nations (New York, Geneva and Vienna), Permanent Residence for the UN, and Six Consulates General of Nepal. The idea is to have honorary consuls in places that are not served by these diplomatic missions. And yet if we look at Nepali honorary consuls abroad, they typically serve in places quite close to the national embassies.

There are honorary consuls even within Nepal, 45 of them, who have been appointed by Nepal to act as a bridge with different countries. In practice they have no discernable duty, even though they are given facilities like diplomatic-plated vehicles, access to VIP lounge in International Airport, easy entry into Singhdurbar and to VIPs. Honorary consuls abroad do not get these facilities.

As things stand, these honorary consuls, in Nepal or abroad, are as good as useless, with only a handful of exceptions. So long as their roles are not clearly defined and so long as the posts are not given to those of high social standing, as envisioned in the Vienna Convention, they will continue to be useless. The honorary consuls are also a tragic reminder of how political meddling has skewed our foreign policy priorities.

The author heads the ‘Political, Current and Foreign Affairs’ bureau at Annapurna Post daily

 I’m frequently asked why I live in Nepal. I know a lot of other long-term expats are asked the same thing. Whether we came for work, love, or Dharma, I think that once we cross a certain number of years of precarious ‘non-resident residency’, the only logical answer seems to veer towards “because it’s there”. In this 100th anniversary year of the birth of Sir Edmund Hillary, there has been a lot of press cov­erage, both good and bad, about Mount Everest. So I thought I could also get my penny’s worth in. But with perhaps a different twist rather than the ‘should or shouldn’t peo­ple still be climbing this mountain’ debate. A mountain now more iconic than technical, more per­sonal demon than abode of the gods. So here goes.

It has been 66 years since Sir Edmund and Tenzing Norgay stood on top of the world. In those days permits were given out at the rate of one per year. Today permits are given out in much larger numbers. With results as we have seen in the media over the last few weeks. This can perhaps be a reflection of our journey in Nepal: at first quite rare, we expats are now ‘ten-a-penny’, as the saying goes. Seen perhaps as taking up space or being a nec­essary evil? Quality and quantity getting confused over and over, and regularly turned around. The sweet and sour.

I had always known there was a database of climbs, appropriately called the Himalayan Database, which records feats of mountaineer­ing madness—the record breaking attempts, the successes, and the failures. I have even met the original keeper of this record—the Late Miss Elizabeth Hawley. This fierce woman was one of the group of early expats to the country. However, it was only very recently that I learned that the database started basically as a hobby for the freelance reporter that she was in 1960s Nepal.

I think like many of us, Liz Hawley arrived on a whim, stayed with a pas­sion, and remained longer ‘because it’s there’. I also learned recently that renowned mountaineer Ralf Dujmovits, who has summited Ever­est and all the 14 eight-thousand­ers, is reported to have said when asked about why people today still climb Everest, “because everyone is there”.

Perhaps that is the answer then. Do long-term expats stay in Nepal because “everyone is there”? Cer­tainly there comes a tipping point when you have more friends in one country than in another. As we age we lose parents and siblings. Chil­dren are no longer dependent on us and strike out on their own adven­tures. Or we stay because we have a Nepali partner and children who are here. As I have mentioned before, the transient nature of expat life means that friends come and go on a regular basis.

At some point I stopped trying to make friends with people who are here on a two-year contract. More heart-wrenching perhaps is the number of Nepali friends who have left to find their own Shangri-La in another country. On the other hand, one well-known American in her 80s who has been here for considerable time, recently recalled arriving at Kathmandu airport (air-strip back then) in 1958. While being driven towards her new posting in the American Embassy, gazing around at the ring of snow-capped moun­tains and greenery of the Valley, she thought to herself, “Wow, I am going to be here for two whole years!” For her it might be she wasn’t here so much on a whim, but definitely she stayed on a passion and con­tinues perhaps because “everyone is there”.

 On 19 November 1951, King Tribhuvan announced the formation of a government that “would be popular and rule according to the wishes of the cit­izens.” The king’s statement also said: “Until the views of the citi­zens can be ascertained through elections, we feel the government should be headed by the leader of the largest outfit approved by the people, and someone who can carry out duties in an ideal and noble manner.” It was Matrika Prasad Koirala whom Tribhuvan chose as the first civilian prime minister following the downfall of the Rana oligarchy and the resignation of the last Rana Prime Minister Mohan Shumsher.

Matrika was the president of the Nepali Congress and the main com­mander of the armed revolution against the Rana regime. But he was not a party ideologue. It was his younger brother Bishweshwar Prasad Koirala who led the party’s ideological front. But BP could not be the prime minister then, as he was not in the good books of internal and external forces.

Mohan Shumsher continued hold­ing the prime minister’s post fol­lowing the overthrow of the Rana regime on 18 February 1951. But disputes between him and the Con­gress persisted. On 2 October 1951, King Tribhuvan formed a 35-mem­ber ‘advisory board’ to assist and counsel the Cabinet, but without consulting with PM Mohan Shum­sher or any cabinet member. This hurt Mohan Shumsher no end.

He announced his resignation on 12 November 1951 amid political disputes and discontents. Congress ministers had already resigned by then. The resignations opened the door for King Tribhuvan to form a new government, which he asked the Congress to lead.

Within the Congress, there were arguments over whether Matrika or BP should be the prime minister. Matrika reasoned that neither the king nor India would accept BP. The reason Tribhuvan was angry with BP was that he had resigned from the home minister’s post with­out consulting with the king. Mean­while, Nehru sent a letter to King Tribhuvan saying India too would not accept BP. BP then agreed to Matrika’s nomination as the prime minister.

Matrika’s cabinet had eight Con­gress representatives and six inde­pendent ones. The latter consisted of Rana courtiers and King Tribhu­van’s loyalists.

The majority of Congress lead­ers were unhappy with Matrika’s selection as the prime minister. The candidate of their choice was BP, who not only had a clear political perspective and some experience as a home minister, but was also closer to party members.

Also unhappy with Matrika was a senior Cabinet minister, Keshar Shumsher, who was on the Rana prime ministerial roll and had eyed the top post.

Following the formation of the government, the Congress started issuing more and more instruc­tions to it. It even had a debate on whether the government was bigger than the party.

The fact that Matrika was both the prime minister and the Con­gress president became a topic of contention within the party, which subscribed to a policy of ‘one indi­vidual, one post’. This meant limit­ing Matrika to the prime minister’s post. Congress leaders also started making loud demands for a General Convention. Matrika insisted that the GC should not elect party lead­ership and that he should be chosen unopposed.

Next week’s ‘Vault of history’ column will discuss the tussle between Matrika and BP over party presidency

 Prime Minister KP Sharma Oli returned home on June 16 from a nine-day visit to a number of European capitals. Both Oli and his office claimed the visit was a success. The PMO issued a long statement recounting his successful engage­ments, which looked more like a detailed itinerary. Surely the prime minister and his entou­rage had a busy schedule, yet the visit raised more questions than it answered.Let’s start with his trip to the United Kingdom. While one could argue about the wisdom of meet­ing outgoing Prime Minister The­resa May, what sticks out as a sore point is Oli’s failure to meet the British monarch. Our mandarins should have pressed their Brit­ish counterparts for a meeting with the Queen. The inability to ensure diplomatic reciprocity is a serious failure—particularly when even low-ranking British officials routinely meet our PM and the President.

Despite all the hype about marking 203 years of diplomatic relations, Oli had to settle for a meeting with Prince Harry, who is sixth in line to the British throne. By our prime minister’s own admission, the UK also cold-shoul­dered Nepal’s proposal to review the 1947 tripartite agreement gov­erning the recruitment of Nepalis into the British Army.

The interview with the BBC was ill-advised too. Why would Prime Minister Oli agree to an interview that focused on the issue of traffic jam on the Everest? It would have been more fitting for the Tourism Department’s spokesperson.

Oli’s trip to France was also anything but memorable. He did not meet French President Emmanuel Macron and failed to sign the two agreements his minister for Information and Communications had pushed for.

Lapses during the Europe vis­it are a result of poor planning, lack of accountability and par­ty functionaries prevailing over career officials. Overall, these are symptoms of a severe weakening of state capability and an absence of adequately-trained human resources in the public sector.

Post 1990 mess

There is a convergence of opin­ion on the erosion of the Nepali state’s capability post-1990. Anecdotal evidence suggests that seems to be the case in many areas. That process picked up pace in the post-2006 arrange­ment—as political accommoda­tion and expediency took priority over state principles, expertise and experience.

Many argue that despite its flaws, and the uneven play­ing-field the Panchayat regime created, it did promote a certain level of meritocracy. They point to high-profile diplomats and plan­ners the system nurtured; despite its authoritarian structure, it fos­tered a learning culture and even tolerated dissent within certain confines—while making long-term strategic investments that the regime considered important. I am no apologist for the Panchayat era, but there is no harm in pick­ing good lessons from the past.

Broadly speaking, a state’s capa­bility is its ability to govern inter­nally while projecting strength externally—reflected in the nature and level of engagements abroad. Internal governance encompasses the abilities to deliver results for citizens, bureaucratic processes, and maintenance of social cohe­sion, ideally through democratic processes.

While the government’s abili­ty to collect taxes and increase development spending in terms of sheer volume has increased since the 1990s, anecdotal evidence suggests a waning of state capa­bility to deliver. Having a bigger revenue base and the ability to earmark an increasing amount of money for different projects is not enough; being able to spend it meaningfully is a better indicator of state capacity.

Even though this government projects bold ambitions, it has not made steady efforts to build state capacity to deliver on its prom­ises. Again, some of us might be confused with the government trying to legislate on internal affairs better—as reflected in the rush to introduce different laws. But that’s not the same as having the capacity to turn those intents into reality.

Short-termism

The point being that there are inadequate human resources within the government system to follow through on the high-pitched rhetoric around pros­perity and good governance—and the government is doing little to generate skilled human resources. For instance, rail­way connectivity seems to be our national priority, yet what has the government done in the past year to create skilled human resources to maintain and run a railway network?

Bureaucratic processes are in a shambles with neither upward nor downward accountability. And a massive increase in the number of political appointees continues to promote ad-hocism and short-term thinking. This has been further aggravated by a constitutional restructuring of the state—without the de-facto devolution of power to the prov­inces and local bodies. The state restructuring should have been followed by an informed push toward revamping the structure, size and work culture of the civil service. Ideally, this should have started with an honest organiza­tion and management survey by an independent third party—nei­ther connected to the politicians nor to the civil service.

The net result of all these are systematic weaknesses in the state’s delivery mechanism even when there is a strong govern­ment at the helm. To be fair, the government inherited much of the problem and should not be blamed for the accumulated mess. But the tragedy is that it is continuing down the same path of short-term thinking that the previous short-lived governments were driven by.