It was three decades ago last week that the Communist Party of Nepal (Maoist) launched the ‘People’s War’ with armed action in four different parts of the country. The main source of news was still the printed word back then, and the attacks in the late evening and night of February 13 were reported only in the edition of the 15th. News of what appeared to be law-and-order incidents merited only brief mentions in the media since obviously nobody had any inkling that a purported ‘armed struggle’ by a splinter of a splinter of one strain of Nepal’s communist movement would ultimately consume the country for the next 10 years.

Though I may have missed it, it was odd to hear nothing on the 30th anniversary from Pushpa Kamal Dahal ‘Prachanda’, the supremo who presided over it all, it turns out, to catapult himself into the frontline of political power. Perhaps the man thought it not politic to remind people of all the violence while soliciting votes for himself and his party. Or, his silence could indicate complications because the party he currently leads, the Nepali Communist Party, now includes individuals who would have borne the brunt of Maoist attacks in their earlier avatar as CPN-UML cadre. It is equally likely that Prachanda could have decided just to move on even as the sticky business of truth and reconciliation drags on, and the issue of the disappeared remains tragically unresolved.

The minus and the plus

So, what does the country have to show for the 10-year insurgency? One can focus on the negatives, and there are plenty to go around. Perhaps what stands out most starkly is the personal benefits reaped by a section of the Maoist leadership. Some of that has been made notably clear by their involvement (so-far-allegedly but most likely true) in some of the major corruption scandals that have rocked the country. The grapevine is also full of stories detailing the involvement of some Maoist leaders in all kinds of business enterprises. Not to mention the Gen Z memes showing what can at best be called ‘Maoist princesses’ prancing around the world.

The dashed hope of Nepalis is perhaps the greater minus. The elevated expectations with which the Maoists were welcomed into the political mainstream and subsequently awarded a substantive mandate in the first Constituent Assembly proved misplaced. Not only did they get down to petty politicking while also running after the spoils of political power, but they also failed in drafting a constitution they could have steered much in the direction promised over the 10 years of propagandising. Their revolutionary path proved to be no more than a shortcut to political prominence for some of the leaders. For reasons ideological, material or both, the comrades-in-arms had a falling out many times over and not one group or individual has ever managed to regain the same vigour with which they made their entrance into the political stage. What they did succeed in was further sullying the image of politics and politicians while also causing untold harm to the cause of progressivism in general.

At the same time, Nepal has transformed considerably since 1996, and some of that change can certainly be credited to the Maoists. One can engage in counterfactuals and argue that state and society would have evolved for the better regardless of external factors—such as an all-consuming insurgency. But judging by the pace of changes in the 1990s and the lethargy, not to mention conservatism, demonstrated by the politicians and political parties at the time, one could quite convincingly argue the opposite.

Just one example suffices, and that is the declaration in 2001 of the ‘Eight-Point Reform Initiatives for Socio-economic Transformation’ by the Sher Bahadur Deuba-led Nepali Congress government. It was not sudden enlightenment on the part of Deuba that resulted in his donning the mantle of a reformer. Rather, it arose from the pressure felt from the rapid spread of the Maoist movement and the increasingly lethal attacks against the police. Hence, the government proposed land reforms; an end to untouchability; ensuring the rights of women, Janajatis and Dalits; and emancipation of bonded labourers, all in the same breath after half a decade of inaction.

After Deuba was booted out by the king in 2002, the political parties suddenly found themselves adrift. Their unexpected sidelining appears to have led to some introspection on how to become relevant again. Hence, the ‘reform agenda’ put forward by the latter included: guaranteed 33 percent women in parliament and local bodies; higher parliamentary representation of women, Dalits and Janajatis; resolving the problem of citizenship in the Tarai; providing opportunities to marginalised groups; and ending discriminations based on caste/ethnicity, geography, language, culture and religion.

The then government serving at the king’s pleasure was not to be outdone and called for promotion of all religions and languages, including allowing the use of languages other than Nepali in local bodies; quotas for women, Dalits and Janajatis in education and government service. In 2005, the royal government, with Gyanendra at its head, could not do less and hence promised affirmative action for women, Dalits and Janajatis in government bodies.

It was thereafter but one extra step to federalism, inclusion, secularism and republicanism—the four pillars on which the 2015 Constitution rests. Except for the retrogrades, one would have to accept that the 2015 iteration of our supreme law is a vast improvement over the 1990 version. And there is also no denying that, but for the Maoist movement, these achievements may not have been possible—at least not at this juncture.

Whither the root causes

So, what accounts for the Maoists’ success in becoming such a formidable force, and accordingly, being able to set the national agenda? It has become fashionable in certain circles to simply dismiss it as resulting from the fear of the real violence the Maoists were capable of wreaking. Having travelled to remote corners of Nepal during the conflict, I have witnessed first-hand the palpable fear—both of the Maoists and of the security forces.

But there is no way the gun alone could have led to the spread of the Maoists across the country. Had that been the case, the proposed reform agenda mentioned earlier would have been quite redundant. Likewise, one would have to accept that the recommendations by different task forces set up by the government and the political parties (five in all) that sing a similar tune would not have been based on reality but on some fanciful imagination of the politicians.

There were real grievances people felt, and the Maoists were able to exploit those at the margins of society, whether in terms of caste/ethnicity, gender, or class. The gun was used to cower people into obedience, but also to empower certain groups of people to feel they could make a difference in their lives. The fact that they ultimately proved to be nothing but the brainwashed, the deluded or the suckers cannot detract from the reality that they were in it to change the world and their own future. Thirty years on, grievances remain; it is only the leaders who have forgotten.