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2 China
sends a message to Nepal By
Peter Lee
As baseball's New York Mets
struggled toward their historic 120-loss season in
1962, their manager, Casey Stengel, famously
lamented of his feckless team: "Can't anybody here
play this game?"
The same might be asked
of the various players in Nepal's carnival of
political and diplomatic dysfunction: the dominant
United Communist Party Nepal (Maoist), the
pro-Indian Nepali Congress, the Madhesi parties
representing the interests of the ethnically
Indian lowlanders of the Tarai, and even the
ostensible grownups in the geopolitical game, the
diplomats of India and the People's Republic of
China (PRC).
Nepalese politicians
dramatically describe their nation as "a yam
between two rocks" to
illustrate the vulnerable circumstances of a small
nation trying to maintain its equilibrium and
independence between two overbearing regional
superpowers.
It would seem that Nepal
could plausibly regard itself as the mountain
maiden wooed by two determined and deep-pocketed
suitors, instead of an imperiled potato.
However, halting efforts to exploit
Sino-Indian rivalry to Nepal's benefit have been
consistently frustrated by Nepalese weakness,
exacerbated by the factionalism, opportunism and
corruption endemic in local politics.
Thierry Dodin, Director of TibetInfoNet,
described the state of play to Asia Times Online:
Nepalis often daydream of a
"triangular relationship" between China, Nepal
and India, and all Nepali rulers of the 20th
century fantasized about "counter-balancing"
India with China.
The reality, however,
is that China is not really interested, because
there is not much in for them in Nepal and its
general attitude towards small neighbors is far
more appalling than India's. But they do
instrumentalize Nepali angst of "Sikkimisation"
(ie the swallowing of Sikkim into India in the
early 1970s) for their policy of keeping India
under pressure.
This is the reality of
the "triangular relationship" and this is why
China makes only symbolic (and always very
visible) "presents" to Nepal, here a road, here
a congress hall etc.
For many Nepali
politicians the "Chinese card" is something they
fancy playing with, but with their almost total
dependence on India (resulting from the facts
that no Nepali government has ever done well in
terms of development, that corruption is
pervading daily life and the country still
dwells in a sort of post-feudal limbo), there's
not much they have to offer. Not much, except
occasional severity against Tibetans.
The most recent manifestation of
Nepal's political crisis is the handwringing over
the postponement of Premier Wen Jiabao's visit to
Nepal.
The official explanation for the
abrupt postponement - which came just one week
before December 20, when Wen was expected to lead
a 100-person delegation to Kathmandu - was that
Chinese domestic economic and budgetary concerns
"at the end of the fiscal year" demanded Wen's
attention.
This was a somewhat plausible
reason, given that China is approaching a
leadership transition and wanted to smooth over
bumps in the road - like the widely-reported
Occupy Wukan action. As the Wukan uproar subsided,
the avuncular Wen was indeed setting the tone for
the moderate government response, calling for
greater protection of farmers' rights.
As
evidence that China's internal issues had prompted
the delay, observers also pointed to the fact that
Wen's visit to Myanmar, presumably a more pressing
item on his agenda in light of the vigorous United
States diplomatic engagement with the Naypyidaw
regime, was also postponed.
Nevertheless,
cancelation of the geopolitically significant and
highly anticipated trip was a genuine debacle.
The local Nepalese media were filled with
lamentations and accusations that the Nepalese
government under Dr Baburam Bhattarai had botched
the China brief by announcing the visit
unilaterally and prematurely before Beijing issued
a statement.
In addition, it was alleged
that Wen's advance team had been alarmed at
heightened anti-PRC activity by the Tibetan
community in Nepal and the disturbing news that
"outside agitators" were coming to Kathmandu from
Dharmsala in India (home of the Tibetan government
in exile) with the intention of confronting and
embarrassing the premier during his visit.
A Nepalese newspaper hostile to the
government put forward its version of the security
backstory:
[Deputy Prime Minister] and Home
Minister Vijaya Kumar Gachhadar was found
holding meetings with the Dalai Lama’s
representatives and considering reopening of the
Dalai Lama's embassy in Kathmandu (although,
unofficially, the embassy in Lajimpat is in
operation). Besides, Gachhadar was found
reluctant in mobilizing special security force
to curb the free-Tibet activities.
According to a source, the Chinese side
was aware about the frequent meetings of the
free-Tibet activists and the activists had
operated three camps specially to organize
demonstration programs here. They had already
collected about one thousand signatures of
people who were ready to organize demonstrations
during the visit of the Chinese prime minister.
Also, it was learnt that plans were afoot for
immolation acts by some Tibetans during this
important visit.
The Chinese Embassy was
unhappy from the disclosing of the date of the
visit of Wen and also the schedule of the visit
of such a high-level leader. [1]
In
addition to the activities alleged above, further
allegations had appeared in the local press that
Gachhadar, who holds the security brief as home
minister, had previously refused to visit Beijing
to discuss security arrangements, further
heightening Chinese suspicions.
The
framing that Nepalese security preparations had
been found wanting was buttressed when, in late
December - after Wen's visit had already been
canceled - Gachhadar flew to Beijing to provide
security assurances to the Chinese government.
For some inexplicable reason, Gachhadar's
entourage let it be known that he had requested a
meeting with Wen, an official considerably above
his pay grade, leading to the predictable public
embarrassment when the Nepalese request was turned
down, and reinforcing the prevailing image of the
Bhattarai administration's inexperience and
incompetence in handling the important Chinese
relationship. Per the Himalayan Times:
Gachhadar, an invitee of the Chinese
government, expressed his desire to pay a
courtesy call on Wen, only to learn about the
latter's busy schedule. Sources attributed this
to lack of coordination between Nepal's Ministry
of Foreign Affairs and Ministry of Home Affairs.
The Nepali Embassy in Beijing downplayed
the matter, saying it was never directed to
arrange the meeting. "We were not told to
arrange such a meeting," said Narayan Dev Panta,
Charge d'Affaires at the embassy. "Had we been
directed, we would have taken the initiative,
though it's not easy to meet such a high-profile
Chinese leader." Panta even said the DPM's visit
was mainly focused on security issues. [2]
These stories derive traction from
the perception that the current Nepalese
government, under (India-educated) Bhattarai, is
determined to strengthen relations with India - at
China's expense if necessary.
India is an
overbearing and politically unpopular presence in
Nepal. Although Nepalese politicos across the
ideological spectrum allegedly line up for Indian
favors and support, perceived truckling to New
Delhi is not viewed kindly.
The negative
depiction of Gachhadar also draws on a rather
widespread unease among Nepal's traditional elites
at the rapidly growing population and
incrementally expanding influence of the "Madhesi"
ethnic and political groupings of relatively
recent Indian immigrants who populate the Tarai -
the agricultural lowlands of Nepal adjoining
India.
The Gurkhas and other highland
ethnic groups that have dominated Nepalese
political life for the past three centuries have
traditionally treated the Madhesi as second-class
citizens. Despite their Indian origins, the
Madhesi are also viewed with an apparent lack of
enthusiasm by the Indian government as a source of
instability and criminality along the border.
However, the Nepalese national government
finally seemed to find its way out of political
gridlock - 17 attempts to elect a prime minister
had failed because of widespread detestation of
the Unified Communist Party of Nepal (UCPN)-Maoist
and distrust of its methods and intentions - when
Bhattarai forged an alliance with a coalition of
Madhesi parties and Gachchadar, from the Tarai,
entered the government as deputy prime minister.
This new political grouping has excited
the instinctive factionalism of the pro-Indian
Nepali Congress, the UCPN-Maoist faction led by
pro-China party supremo Pushpa Kamal Dahal aka
Prachanda (the prime ministerial candidate who had
failed to close the deal 17 times), and the
radical base of the UCPN-Maoist, which would like
to abandon the parliamentary charade and return to
armed struggle.
Faced with this storm of
politically motivated criticism from left and
right, Bhattarai - who previously enjoyed a rather
exalted reputation as the cool-as-a-cucumber
brains of the UCPN-Maoist - has seen his
reputation and career outlook take a major
drubbing.
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