Student activism of an unruly orientation and the direct role of political parties in either promoting or nudging them has become common in Nepal. There are saddening media reports about students going berserk at the Tribhuvan University authorities’ offices. The situation is getting more complex each day. If one espouses politically oriented activism to promote open discourse about the new consciousness in the Federal Republic of Nepal, one should work towards creating a conducive atmosphere at the university. But if your actions stultify his environment, then you may find yourself in a catch-22 situation. It would be appropriate for the ‘academic crusaders’ to read the American writer Joseph Heller’s novel, Catch-22 (1961), for clarification.

As an admirer of a parliamentary democratic system, I expect the Nepali Parliament to function smoothly and produce good results. However, that is glibly moving towards a catch-22 situation, which becomes clear if you watch or read about the happenings in the Parliament. Though the House is not in a position to dodge issues like passing important bills, conducting budget discussions and finalising them within the constitutionally stipulated time, the cumulative energy is working towards stultifying it.

Subjectivity, which means appeasing the egos of political leaders and satisfying their aggrandisements, is playing a crucial role here. Parliament is not a space for expressing existential angst. In some countries, it is an assembly where the speakers can express emotions, shout, laugh and cry. Some can continue speaking for hours, a practice known in legislative parlance as filibustering.

At a recent colloquium, a few people asked questions that opened up a topic I have not yet bothered to write about in articles or books of criticism. Considering the enthusiastic participation of teachers in politics and related activism today, I was asked what was my role as a teacher whose teaching karma spanned over half a century? I appreciated the question. During my career as a teacher, I have witnessed various political changes in this country. I have also written some essays about it and published them in various newspapers, including this Post, and some magazines. I have raised questions about students’ political engagements and the roles that the teachers have played either in promoting or discouraging them.

I joined teaching at a transitional time. I had some background in activism as a student. King Mahendra had introduced a political system that banned all political parties from functioning openly. They had gone underground and operated in Nepal and India. Some political leaders like BP Koirala, Manmohan Adhikari, Ganesh Man Singh, Krishna Prasad Bhattarai and many others belonging either to the Nepali Congress or the Communist Party of Nepal were imprisoned. It would be a tautology to repeat that history here.

But teachers, especially in different subjects of the humanities and social sciences, as well as science and technology, teach courses that cover topics like different systems of governments and the nature and principles of political parties. Teachers, however, did not have any proactive roles in them. Students were overtly interested in politics; they organised the unions and called themselves supporters of the banned political parties.

Teachers were not restricted to teaching theories and ideas incorporated in their curricula, mainly at the tertiary and graduate levels. Some well-known academics in those subjects, who have long retired and are known for their scholarship, authored books mainly published in India. Their participation in national and international events related to political themes should be remembered as vital subjects.

What did the academics perform then? They perhaps uncritically repeated the various theories and maintained a certain pattern of teaching subjects related to social sciences and humanities. The Panchayat ideologues wanted to intervene indirectly. They emerged with the idea of developing a study genre by incorporating topics that could be the principal subjects for studying Nepali history, culture, geography, and so on. It was informative and hybrid, depending on the thrust of the course of study. To avoid moral panic, they developed a solution. Ironically, some academics in the Panchayat era wrote books and articles and maintained some independence in research.

I was also asked about the proactive roles of university teachers during the autocratic Panchayat times. Academics like me and my colleagues who taught or practised humanities, especially literary studies, were not required to make decisions with political implications. We espoused theories ranging from Marxism to cultural studies incorporating ideas from the British Marxist philosopher Raymond Williams. Noam Chomsky, whose linguistic revolution—excluding his anarchist or critical theories—also became part of our curricula. As far as I remember, no teachers and syllabus planners indoctrinated the students with political thinking, nor did they rub their ideas about the right kind of political system that the country needed. The academics or the teachers didn’t have any direct impact on the thinking pattern of the students.

I would call that a strange milieu of Panchayat indifference to the evolution of ideas, even woke theories, to use the familiar lingo of the current times, as long as that did not challenge the dictator’s rule. The Gramscian theory would explain this phenomenon. But today, when one is free to discuss political theories and practice them, people appear to push that not to one’s advantage, but to create a catch-22 situation. It is common knowledge that ideologies and praxis are in conflict in Nepal. But turning the democratic political system into an opportunity for taking personal advantage, making money by unfair means and ignoring the dire condition of the people appears to be the present malaise of the system.

I return to teach the graduate research classes on the Kiritipur campus even after 53 or so years at the invitation of the Department of English, headed by my erstwhile students. From discussions with the faculty, I find that Kirtipur University as a space is shrinking, with its property encroached by individuals and ‘prestigious’ external organisations. With indifferent faculties and students occupied with the bellicose practice of quotidian politics, the situation looks disheartening and serious.