The first national convention of Rastriya Swatantra Party (RSP), expected to institutionalize the party’s promise of “new politics,” ended in controversy after six days of administrative chaos, disputed election results, factional tensions, and growing criticism that the party has begun replicating the very political culture it once vowed to dismantle.

Held in Bharatpur from June 21 to 26, the convention was widely seen as the party’s biggest institutional test since its formation in 2022. For a party that rose rapidly by promising transparency, internal democracy, meritocracy, accountability, and an alternative to Nepal’s traditional political establishment, the gathering was expected to demonstrate whether RSP could practice internally the values it has consistently championed in public.

Instead, six turbulent days exposed deep organizational weaknesses, procedural controversies, and internal contradictions that now threaten the credibility of the very political project on which the party built its rise.

Trouble began even before formal proceedings started. Originally planned as a three-day event, the convention stretched nearly a week as the party struggled to complete basic organizational preparations. Delegates arriving from across the country encountered confusion over accreditation, identity card distribution, registration procedures, and repeated delays in scheduled sessions.

The party leadership reportedly failed to finalize the delegate list until the final hours before the convention began. Confusion over representative verification immediately disrupted proceedings, forcing postponement of the closed session that was originally scheduled for the second day. The delegate count also mysteriously rose from an initial 3,000 to over 4,100 without any transparent audit trail.

The situation was particularly striking in Madhes, the party’s strongest electoral base where it secured 57.33 percent of proportional representation votes. RSP failed to hold district conventions in seven of the province’s eight districts, meaning delegates were selected through ad hoc committees rather than any democratic process.

For a party that has repeatedly criticized older political forces for bureaucratic inefficiency and weak organizational culture, the early administrative collapse proved politically embarrassing.

Thousands of delegates, many of whom traveled from remote districts at their own expense, found themselves stranded in Chitwan for days amid uncertainty over constantly shifting schedules. Several publicly complained about spending significant personal funds on accommodation and food while the party leadership failed to communicate clearly about the delays.

Weather conditions further deepened frustration. The convention took place in nearly 40-degree pre-monsoon heat, while delegates struggled with mounting accommodation costs due to repeated extensions. The opening session, scheduled for 1 pm, began only at 3:30 pm. Party leaders including Rabi Lamichhane and Balen Shah arrived hours late, mirroring the same political culture of delays the party had once criticized. Delegates reportedly slept in nomination halls while waiting, and many from distant districts returned home before proceedings concluded.

The convention’s biggest controversy emerged during internal elections for central committee positions, where disputes over electoral outcomes quickly escalated into one of the gathering’s most serious flashpoints.

The dispute involving candidate Puja Banstola became the most visible controversy. According to internal election results, Banstola secured more votes than several competing candidates. However, disagreements emerged over how the party interpreted inclusion provisions while finalizing winners, ultimately leaving her unelected despite receiving a stronger vote count.

The outcome immediately triggered criticism from party members and supporters, with accusations that the party had inconsistently applied its own constitutional provisions and denied representation to a candidate who had secured greater electoral support.

The controversy quickly spread across social media, with many supporters openly questioning whether the party’s commitment to fairness and meritocracy exists only as political rhetoric. Although the party’s election commission later corrected the error, the damage had already been done.

Equally troubling was the complete absence of meaningful democratic deliberation during endorsement of the party’s key political and organizational documents.

President Rabi Lamichhane presented major policy proposals intended to shape the party’s long-term political direction. Yet delegates were reportedly given virtually no opportunity to debate, question, amend, or challenge the documents before being asked to endorse them.

A process that should have involved serious deliberation among thousands of representatives was reduced to little more than procedural formality. One party leader sarcastically remarked that the “intensive discussion conducted by 4,200 delegates lasted just seven seconds.”

The irony was striking.

RSP built much of its political identity by criticizing traditional parties for bulldozing major decisions through centralized leadership structures while suppressing internal debate. Yet during its own most important organizational gathering, the party appeared to repeat precisely the same practice.

The policies themselves were deeply controversial: abolishing provincial assemblies, introducing a directly elected executive, making the National Assembly non-partisan, and implementing non-partisan local elections. If implemented, these proposals would fundamentally alter the federal framework established by Nepal’s 2015 Constitution. Yet none were subjected to genuine internal debate. Delegates were simply asked to endorse them—and they did.

The party’s much-publicized digital voting system became another source of controversy. Delegates reportedly stood in long queues for hours merely to complete nomination and registration procedures.

The electronic ballot system itself created confusion after candidate names reportedly appeared in random rather than alphabetical order. Several candidates later raised concerns over inconsistencies in published results after names initially appearing in one result sheet reportedly shifted positions following revisions.

Perhaps the most legally troubling revelation from the convention was the discovery that 35,257 registered party members—representing 6.73 percent of the party’s membership base—were minors under the age of 18.

The revelation potentially violates multiple legal provisions, including Article 39 of Nepal’s Constitution, which prohibits the political exploitation of children; Section 14 of the Political Parties Act, 2073, which requires party members to be eligible voters aged 18 or above; and Section 66 of the Act Relating to Children, 2075, which criminalizes the recruitment of minors into political organizations.

The leadership attempted to dismiss the revelation as a technical glitch in the party’s online registration system. But critics argue the explanation is legally and morally insufficient, particularly given that the party has repeatedly advocated for depoliticizing educational spaces and restricting student unions in the name of protecting young people from partisan influence.

The convention also exposed visible factional divisions despite repeated public claims that RSP rejects faction-based politics.

While President Rabi Lamichhane faced no competition, several contested positions reportedly reflected growing internal alignments among competing leadership groups. Candidates and insiders privately accused powerful figures within the leadership of quietly promoting preferred candidates through informal channels despite the party’s public opposition to factional politics.

Perhaps the most politically damaging statistic emerging from the convention was the dramatic collapse in delegate participation.

Party leaders repeatedly claimed that more than 4,000 delegates attended the convention. Yet only around 2,900 participated in voting for central committee positions. By the time elections for key office-bearer positions were held, turnout had reportedly fallen to nearly 1,300 votes.

In effect, nearly 70 percent of delegates abstained from deciding the party’s new leadership. This included Lamichhane himself, who was present in Chitwan but did not vote, while Balen Shah had already returned to Kathmandu.

The sharp decline reflected more than logistical inconvenience. It exposed growing frustration among delegates exhausted by repeated delays, financial burden, organizational confusion, and dissatisfaction with how the convention was being conducted.

In many ways, delegates had already delivered their verdict.

For many young voters, urban professionals, first-time voters, and politically frustrated citizens, RSP’s rise symbolized hope that Nepal could finally build a credible alternative to the country’s old political establishment. That symbolic value made this convention particularly important.

But the party’s first major organizational exercise instead exposed a troubling contradiction.

Nepal’s traditional political parties have long faced criticism for factional bargaining, procedural manipulation, centralized decision-making, weak internal democracy, and lack of transparency. RSP entered politics promising to break that cycle.

Yet during its own first major institutional test, the party found itself accused of replicating many of the same practices it once built its political identity opposing.

The convention that was supposed to institutionalize Nepal’s most ambitious experiment in alternative politics instead exposed an uncomfortable possibility: RSP may already be evolving into the very political culture it promised to replace.