Book Review Pages
The Kathmandu Post Review of Books
Vol. 2, No. 6
Issue Coordinator: Ashutosh Tiwari
Martin Chautari for
CSRD and The Kathmandu Post
Return to KPRB Main Page
Return to CSRD Main Page
Return to SINHAS Home Page
Essay
Reviews
- Foreign Aid and Foreign Policy: Major Powers and Nepal (Narayan Khadka)
- The 80/20 Principle (Richard Koch)
- Peasants and Monks in British India (William R. Pinch)
- Micro Fiction: An Anthology of Really Short Stories(Jerome Stern, ed.)
Reading the Book of Democracy
Mary Des Chene
Actions Speak Louder than Words
A few days ago the body of Ganesh Man Singh, sometimes called a "living martyr" of the Nepali democracy movement, was draped in the national flag by Lokendra Bahadur Chand, Prime Minister during the Chaitra 2046 massacre of people who, heeding Ganesh Man's call, had taken bravely to the streets, armed only with a desire for democracy. In this action we might reflect that Nepali democracy itself became a "living martyr".
Then Ganesh Man's body was further draped in the Nepali Congress flag by Girija Prasad Koirala, tireless worker in recent years against the cooperative spirit of the Jana Andolan which Ganesh Man did so much to create, and indeed against Ganesh Man having any role in Nepali Congress affairs. In this action we might reflect that the spirit of Ganesh Man was martyred for the party one final time, but we will never know if he would have wanted it that way.
Then on the ghats the RPP-UML government, certainly with the approval of the palace, accorded Ganesh Man state honours, the first of the Nepali praja to be so honoured by its tantra. In this action we can reflect: did the state seek to drape Ganesh Man in honour for his life time of dedication to democracy, or did the tantra seek to drape itself in the honour accorded to Ganesh Man by the praja?
When the state honours a citizen publicly it pronounces that it values what that person stood for, what they fought for. Since Ganesh Man's name is virtually synonymous with struggle for democracy, the state has just proclaimed loudly and clearly, that it honours and respects democracy. But we can reflect: is the state in any condition to make such a proclamation? In paying last respects Lokendra Bahadur Chand, of course, represented the people not in his capacity as Prime Minister during the Chaitra 2046 massacre, but in his capacity as Prime Minister today. And we need go no further (though we easily could) to see clearly that the state is in no condition today to pay homage to democracy.
When the state is in such a condition, it is important to condemn fundamentally anti-democratic acts - like an "Anti-Terrorist" bill that contains a recipe for state terrorism, or gifting of ministerial berths in the quest to cling to power. But if we are surprised or shocked at such events, we need to think harder about the nature of democracy. Rather than focus on the daily fare of outrageous events, better to think through the lessons they can teach us, by negative example, about the nature of democracy. Books can help, but the final reference must always be life - for the book of democracy is written day by day in the experience of each and every person. Or, more often, remains unwritten.
What's in a Word?
Even while becoming a rallying cry the world over for millions of oppressed people (or maybe precisely for this reason), in the hands of theorists and power-mongers alike "democracy" has become a light, vague word, practically meaningless. It has sprouted many qualifying adjectives to mask its radical implications, like 'representative', 'liberal', 'Christian', 'socialist'. Each of these attaches a "but" to democracy - yes the people shall rule, but only some of them - or equates democracy with a particular economic system, governmental structure, religion, or political ideology.
Nowhere is the dilution of the powerful concept of democracy more advanced than in the so-called "developed democracies", with the United States, as it likes to do, showing the world the way- this time in the production of hollow rhetoric to pacify citizens while maintaining a system designed to retain power and wealth in the hands of a few. The textbook fictions exported as "Build Your Democracy Yourself" guidebooks, which bear no relation to that reality, are about as useful as blueprints for building castles in the air. These paper books need to be evaluated against the hard standard of the book of life. Then they can be read against the grain, for the many lessons they contain about how democracy can be dammed up, diverted, diluted, crushed.
Building upon these fictions is a yet more insidious literature which contrasts "mature" democracies with "emerging" or "developing" ones. These phrases, as used, imply that democracy can come about gradually through tinkering with a non-democratic system, and orchestrated from above, by a power elite. The founders of America, despite their limited notion of "the people", said otherwise - that democracy is revolutionary, in implication and in practice - an idea now labelled "not for human consumption". This literature goes on to equate democracy with an electoral system and a capitalist economy and implies that, if those two things are put in place, democracy will naturally "emerge".
When the way is lost it is sometimes necessary to go back to the beginning. The word "democracy" has its roots in two Greek words, dhmos (the commons, the people) and kratos (rule, authority), thus rule of the people - all of them, not some, and by the people - not "in their name" or "for their sake". It is thus incompatible with certain forms of government, like monarchy or dictatorship, but not in itself a particular form of government. And incompatible with certain forms of social organization, like class or caste. But it is not in itself a particular form of social organization, but rather a quality of relation - of equal power among people. We might also note that the Nepali word has more affinities with things that so often substitute for democracy, than with the thing itself. The original meaning of the praja in prajatantra is, after all, the subjects of a king- people who are ruled, not people who rule. The Nepali equivalent of the original meaning of democracy is another word, janatantra.
Judged against textbook fictions, two lines of thought about the current condition of Nepali democracy have come to predominate. One is that it is being abused and thus "emerging" in a malformed way. The other is: if this is democracy, who needs it! Both assume that Nepali democracy now exists. Returning to the roots of the concept, let us assume for a moment that democracy doesn't now exist and that in this Nepal is not alone, but part of an absolute majority in the world. If we read the book of experience rather than the books that try to paper over experience, we can learn at least the following from those things that parade in the guise of democracy:
- "The people" means not some of the people, but all. And so long as there are not democratic relations among the people - collective power residing in the preservation of individual power by all - there is not democracy.
- Democracy is not a specific set of institutions, but institutions organized and used to act collectively, with power residing not in the institutions but in the people (as defined above) who create and use them.
- Democracy is not a specific economic system, but can only exist where material life is arranged to equally benefit all.
- Democracy is not a specific political ideology, but political ideologies either have democracy at their core or do not. If they does not, democracy will never be achieved by putting them into practice.
- Democracy cannot be wholly institutionalized because it exists (or does not) in the practice of life, not in the structures that organize it. While some structures are antithetical to democracy, any structure can be used against it. Thus democracy is a constant collective decision, not something we can make once and then enjoy without further struggle.
If these points sound simple it may be that the profundity of democracy lies precisely in its simplicity. If they sound unrealistic it may be because we have not yet known such a condition, and it is always hard to imagine that which does not exist, yet harder to see how to create it. But perhaps the best tribute to Ganesh Man is to leaf through the book of democracy, assessing failures, and ask what this word, in whose name he fought throughout his life, might really mean, and how what it stands for might really be achieved. If democracy is a possible human relation, there is no reason it can't be Nepal where it first flowers.
Some say as many as five lakhs were on the streets to pay last respects to Ganesh Man. Judged against the root meanings of democracy, to keep him as a living martyr they may need to come to the streets again to create a state worthy of paying homage to his ideals. Not just to walk the road of democracy, but to build it, not just to read the book of democracy, but to write it. The anthem of such a movement has already been written, read from the book of life by songwriter Rayan. Two of its choruses make the point:
prajatantra, prajatantra,
ke ko prajatantra
janata lai bhoke maarne
ke ko prajatantra
. . . . . .
haami lai ta
janata herne
chhahinchha,
janatantra
Return to Contents of this Issue
Return to KPRB Main Page
Return to SINHAS Home Page
Foreign Aid and Foreign Policy: Major Powers and Nepal
Author: Narayan Khadka
Publisher: Vikas Publishing House Pvt Ltd., 423pp.
Price: IRs 495
Foreign Policies and Aid
Narayan Manandhar
Study of foreign aid brings into fore the intricate play of Nepal's economy, politics and foreign policy. After population, if there is anything growing in Nepal then it must be the volume of foreign aid. "A tickle turning into a torrent" was what Dr. Chaitnya Mishra and Dr. Pitamber Sharma referred to in 1983.
In "Foreign aid and foreign policy: Major Powers and Nepal" Dr Narayan Khadka analyses the nature of that torrent in light of changing international scenes, and their implications for the Nepali economy. By doing this, Dr. Khadka has added a sequel to his previous book, "Foreign Aid, Poverty and Stagnation in Nepal". While "Poverty and Stagnation" looked into the supposed correlation between aid and development, the volume under review sets out to evaluate the foreign aid and foreign policy objectives of four strategic power centres, two world power centres -- the USA and former USSR and two regional power centers, India and China.
Excepting Eugene Bramer Mihaly's work (Foreign Aid and Politics in Nepal", Oxford University Press, 1965), much of the research work on foreign aid in Nepal has been devoted to analyzing, statistical or otherwise, the impact of foreign aid in Nepali economy (see, Bikas Joshi, Foreign Aid: Sifting the Statistical Evidence, IIDs, 1996). The present work by Dr Khadka has one important characteristic that generates our interest. During early sixties, Mihaly sought to look into the politics of foreign aid from an outsider's perspective.
Here, Khadka looks outside from inside: What are the strategic foreign policy objectives of these power centers and what impact do they have on foreign aid to Nepal? This is a stimulating question to ask, and Khadka sets out to provide answers in 400-odd pages.
Broadly, the book could be divided into two parts. The first part deals with elaborate, country-wise case studies on foreign aid and foreign politics of four major power centres in Nepal spanning a period of forty years (1951-1991). To present his findings empirically, Khadka runs a series of regressions to test his hypotheses behind the motives of foreign aid.
Khadka investigates how three primary foreign policy objectives, namely, strategic, political and economic objectives have influenced foreign aid contribution to Nepal. In presenting his analysis, Dr Khadka also gives differing patterns or shifting of policy goals with the changes in international politics. He evaluates the effectiveness of the pursued foreign policy goals. For example, the first phase (1950s and 1960s) of American aid to Nepal was basically motivated by the need to contain communist movement spreading from the north. To achieve this foreign policy objective, the US even went on to support the autocratic Panchayat regime. Ultimately, Khadka concludes that the USA has failed to achieve its objective as the communist movement is gaining newer grounds in Nepal.
By the 70s and the 80s, the US went on to have a specific "Nepal Policy" thereby giving a leverage to Nepal to pursue an independent foreign policy of its own. India's foreign aid policy also failed to contain communism, however, it is partly successful in realizing its political goal of maintaining "special relationship" with Nepal. But India also failed to influence Nepal's foreign policy. Neither could it harmonize Nepal's economic policies with its own. China's strategic interest for giving aid to Nepal was guided by containing possible anti-Tibetan movement within Nepal. Its political interest was to pose itself as a competitor to India, and countervail US and Soviet Union influence in Nepal.
Khadka writes: "China's short term and long term political objectives were not strongly motivated by ideological considerations, i.e, supporting communist movement in Nepal." If the findings of Khadka is correct then it is worthwhile to ask how the communist movement has flourished in Nepal, irrespective of US and Indian anti-communist drives and China's support. Among the four power centres China's seems to be most successful case in pursuing foreign policy goals. Soviet Union's interest was triggered by countervailing US and Chineses influence in Nepal.
Dr Khadka also gives differing pattern of executing aid in Nepal. If India preferred to execute on a turnkey basis, mostly confining to the Terai, Soviet Union preferred active involvement of Nepal giving the officials to learn from experience. However, there is not much detail on the modus operandi of foreign aid execution. The cessation of cold war, dismantling of Soviet Russia, gradual opening of Indian and Chinese economy all have profound influence on foreign policy and foreign aid. The important question is: Will there be a decline in foreign aid in Nepal? The answer one gets from Khadka's work is: No. US may not be a neutralizing force in South Asian politics yet, but it has "moral obligations" to support Nepal.
Having supported autocratic regime for so long, the US cannot simply withdraw its aid from Nepal. China and India will continue to vie for regional power and this will influence the flow of aid in Nepal. Tibet is still at the top of the agenda of Chinese politics.
The book contains errors and repetitions of ideas. One even finds the book to be tedious. There is an implicit assumption here that research writing need to be like that. The facts, figures and footnotes could be presented in a readable fashion. While reading the book one often encounters hypothetical assumptions or wishful thinking like this: "Had Nepal won the war with the British in 1814-1816 Nepal surely would have emerged as a Himalayan power by way of annexing all the trans-Himalayan territories (p.97)". Most baffling aspect of the study are Khadka's simplistic suggestions. Indian aid is scattered therefore should focus on few, Nepal does not have a policy of foreign aid therefore should have an aid plan. Khadka does not develop these suggestions into concrete proposals.
All in all, for anyone willing to suffer through tedious prose, this book still shines as a repository of information on foreign aid.
Return to Contents of this Issue
Return to KPRB Main Page
Return to SINHAS Home Page
The 80/20 Principle
Author: Richard Koch
Publisher: Nicholas Brealy, London
Low Input; High Output
Surendra Sthapit
While Richard Koch was a student at Oxford, he learned a very valuable lesson. He discovered that 80 per cent of questions in any final examination could be well answered with knowledge from 20 per cent or fewer of the subject matter.
Later on, as a management consultant, he realized that that firms too operate on a roughly similar scenario: 80 per cent of profits of would come from 20 per cent of clients, 20 percent of employees, as partners, would take home 80 percent of the firm's post-tax income, and 80 percent of that income would go to the firm's president.
Intrigued, Koch began to study and analyze this unusual but actual imbalance in the world. And he came across many instances where 80 per cent of outputs result from 20 per cent of inputs; where 80 per cent of consequences flow from 20 per cent of causes; and where 80 per cent of results come from 20 per cent of effort. Koch's book sets out ot show how we can use this "80/20 principle" to get the most out of our life.
Intuition prompts us to give equal effort to all our tasks because that seems a reasonable thing to do. We tend to believe that 50 per cent of inputs will account for the 50 per cent of outputs. But Koch warns against this "50/50 fallacy", and says that most of our inefficiency and unproductivity arises from this fallacy.
Once we realize that 20 per cent of inputs bring 80 per cent output, we can start looking closely at that top 20 inputs and look at ways to further increase that segment. Similarly we can find out the least productive inputs and decrease them input so that ultimately we will be able to raise the overall output.
This principle is not limited to business sector alone. We can apply this to our relationships. All our friends do not provide us with equal 'quality-time'. There will be a few friends that give us a satisfying and meaningful company. Instead of trying to find time for all our friends, we could focus on spending time with those friends who give us 'quality time'.
He writes in acknowledgment that this has been the most painful and well-researched book he has ever written. There are indeed many examples and interesting observations that makes reading this book relevant and engaging. The special charm of this book is that it does not teach us ways to beat the system but rather advise us to transform our ways of thoughts and performance so that we are working with, rather than against this 80/20 principle for achieving and enjoying more with working less.
(Sthapit is an assistant manager at Bluebells Departmental Store)
Return to Contents of this Issue
Return to KPRB Main Page
Return to SINHAS Home Page
Peasants and Monks in British India
Author: William R. Pinch
Publisher: The University of California Press, USA, 1996
Peasants and Monks in British India
Sanjay Joshi
This book explores related histories of the Ramanandi community, and that of peasants traditionally consigned to the servile status of Shudra in North India. The author, William (Vijay) Pinch also relates these histories to Hindu right-wing mobilizations and politics of lower caste assertiveness in contemporary India. Ramanandis, a Vaishnavite monastic order, attracted a large following among low status groups, Pinch argues, because they combined a `liberal social philosophy' with an "aggressive program of social and religious reform." (38) The author documents developments in the twentieth century that made indifference to caste distinctions a central feature of Ramanandi identity.
In apparent contrast to this dominant Ramanandi opinion, some peasant groups consciously adopted "a hierarchical ideology to subvert a hierarchical world" (140), and asserted their status as upper-caste Kshatriyas in the early years of the twentieth century. Pinch however argues that Vaishnavism of the Ramanandi variety provided the discursive and historical framework constituting peasant Kshatriya identities. Claiming descent from royal and martial incarnations of Vishnu - Ramachandra of Ayodhya or Krishna of Mathura - became central to assertions of personal dignity and social standing.
Such genealogies accompanied changes in community rituals and personal practices among 'reformed Kshatriyas', and these too reflected Ramanandi emphasis on individual purity. Some Ramanandi monks also helped Yadav, Kurmi, or Kushvaha peasants in asserting their claims to Kshatriyahood. Thus, Pinch argues, becoming Kshatriya in north India was predicated on being Vaishnava.
While providing an interesting interpretation of caste reform, displacing the currently fashionable emphasis on the colonial census, or more traditional 'Sanskritization' models, this book is not without problems. Connections between the Ramanandi universe and that of the peasants reformers are perhaps overstated. It is difficult to accept, for instance, the argument that a 'Vaishnava morality' (94) pervaded the efforts of reformed Kshatriyas. Reforms aimed at curbing wasteful marriage expenses, or the presence of prostitutes at festivals, may well have been articulated as part of a Vaishnavite critique in North Indian peasant communities. (94-95)
In the late nineteenth or early twentieth century however, similar reforms were also part of middle class reformers' agenda in India and the western world. It may not be coincidental that most reform ideologues for whom Pinch provides biographical data, could themselves be termed middle class. Perhaps a clear definition of terms like Vaishnavism would have helped. Such definitions would certainly have made the book more accessible to non-specialist readers.
Another problem results from valorization of the world-view of the Yadav, Kurmi, or Kushvaha peasants. Efforts at upward social and economic mobility by these peasants involved not just a confrontation with superior forces, but also the subordination of less powerful social groups. Pinch does touch upon how the assertion of Kshatriyahood further subordinated women. (124-26)
However, other forms of oppression that might accompany liberatory efforts of upwardly mobile social groups - for example, the oppression of untouchables by the new Kshatriyas - are not addressed. A complex recognition of peasant subalternity and resistance could produce a more nuanced study of peasant politics, and also historicize the difficulties that beset creation of political alliances between "subaltern" groups in contemporary North India.
Despite this criticism, Pinch's book is one which should be read by any thoughtful student of Indian society. Using a variety of English, Hindi, and some Urdu sources, Pinch illuminates the little-known history of the Ramanandi sampradaya, and the efforts of Yadav, Kurmi, and Kushvaha caste reformers. Moreover, at a time when caste and religious politics occupy so much of the Indian political space, a work that relates both issues and situates them historically is of great significance.
(Sanjay Joshi is an assistant professor of history at the Northern Arizona University)
Return to Contents of this Issue
Return to KPRB Main Page
Return to SINHAS Home Page
Micro Fiction: An Anthology of Really Short Stories
Editor: Jerome Stern
Publisher: W.W. Norton and Company, New York, 1996
Challenging Ourselves as Readers
Manjushree Thapa
The short story, invented in the 19th century by writers like Edgar Allen Poe, Anton Chekov, Nikolai Gogol, and Guy Maupassant, has evolved, in this century, into the form of choice for many writers. Stemming from traditional, even ancient genres like the fable, parable, yarn, and tale, the short story is nonetheless distinct in the complexity with which it renders the subjective experience of its characters. The condensation the form requires is considered technically challenging by writers, and (because of increasingly small attention spans, perhaps) appealing by readers.
While early 20th century authors like Franz Kafka and Ernest Hemingway expanded the range of short story styles from allegory to realism, and in the latter part of the 20th century, postmodernists like Julio Cortazar and Donald Barthelme have used the form to subvert traditional narrative expectations. By now, the short story boasts as many different styles as there are writers.
Micro Fiction: an Anthology of Really Short Stories contains many of these contemporary styles, with a special twist: its stories are at most 300 words long. The extreme brevity of one-page (sometimes one-paragraph) stories foregrounds the stylistic decisions their writers have made, and this book reads as an interesting, if quirky survey of trends in contemporary fiction. The anthology contains 52 authors and their entries to Florida State University's Worlds Best Short Short Story Contest, and includes well-known American writers like Amy Hempel, Stuart Dybek and Ron Carlson, as well as a variety of their less-known peers.
One of its shortest entries is "Hostess" by Amy Hempel:
She swallowed Gore Vidal. Then she swallowed Donald Trump. She took a blue capsule and a gold spansule--a B-complex and an E--and put them on the tablecloth a few inches apart. She pointed the one at the other. "Martha Stewart," she said, "Meet Oprah Winfrey."
She swallowed them both without water.
"Hostess" is a good example of the relatively large scope such a short story can have. Upon second and third readings, the whimsical tone of the piece takes on a more troubling tone as the reader begins to wonder about the protagonist. Is she emotionally stable? Is it boredom that leads her to entertain herself this way? Is she drunk? Why is her imagination controlled by public personalities? What does her powerlessness and isolation mean in relation to them? The story expands as the reader asks more and more questions.
One of the most valuable aspects of Micro Fiction is that it makes us question our own expectations as fiction readers. We have been trained to expect a story to begin in an entertaining way, to lead up to a crisis between two or more characters (involving their deepest, darkest emotions, hopefully), and to end with a spectacular resolution of this crisis. Stories that don't do this we label "experimental," and avoid. We have become lazy readers.
When reading a poem, though, we summon more effort because we expect poems to be complex, and we are willing to read and re-read them till we discover their meanings. While some of the pieces in Micro Fiction are traditional in style, many are best read like poems; their enigma is to be savored, not criticized.
This is particularly true of those pieces that are written in dense, descriptive styles, like Harry Humess story "The Cough" about a mining family: "Our young father walked Ash Alley whistling 'Rescue the Perishing,' but already he carried mine tunnels home in his black-streaked breath.... Some of the men who stopped at our house to see my father had tongues like fish that stuck out between words." Such writing is difficult for a writer to sustain in a long piece, and for a reader to follow; in a short piece, however, it is haunting and evocative.
Even the more conventional pieces in the anthology, because of their shortness, require careful reading. "Worry," by Ron Wallace spans an entire generation:
She worried about people; he worried about things. And between them, that about covered it.
"What would you think of our daughter sleeping around?" she said.
"The porch steps are rotting," he replied. "Someone's going to fall through."
They were lying in bed together, talking. They had been lying in bed together talking these twenty-five years. First about whether to have children, he wanted to (although the roof was going fast); she didn't (Down's syndrome, leukemia, microcephaly, mumps). Then, after their daughter was born, a healthy seven pounds eleven ounces ("She's not eating enough"; "The furnace is failing"), they talked about family matters, mostly ("Her friends are hoodlums, her room's a disaster"; "There's something about the brakes, the water heater's rusting out").
Worry grew between them like a son, with his own small insistencies and then more pressing demands. They stroked and coddled him; they set a place for him at the table; they sent him to kindergarten, private school, and college. Because he failed at nearly everything and always returned home, they loved him. After all, he was their son.
"I've been reading her diary. She does drugs. She sleeps around."
"I just don't think I can fix them myself. Where will we find a carpenter?"
Their daughter married a high school sweetheart, had a family, and started a health food store in a distant town. Although she recalled her childhood as fondly as anyone--how good her parents had been and how they worried for her, how old and infirm they must be growing, their houses going to ruin--she rarely called or visited. She had worries of her own.
Like this story, most of the pieces in Micro Fiction focus on personal crises, and they take the inner worlds of their characters as their primary concern. Those who are used to reading idea-driven or political fiction may find this American obsession with individual experience to be, at times, annoying; the book nevertheless presents us an excellent chance to challenge ourselves as readers, and critics, of fiction.
(Thapa is a graduate student in creative writing on a Fulbright Fellowship at the University of Washington in Seattle, USA.)
Return to Contents of this Issue
Return to KPRB Main Page
Return to SINHAS Home Page
Last changed: 98/08/14