There is a distinct, recurring theatre to economic governance in the Global South. Every few years, a polished, Western-educated technocrat emerges from the periphery, steps onto an international stage, and is bestowed a gleaming accolade by the high priests of global finance. In 2016, Ram Sharan Mahat was named Global and Asia-Pacific Finance Minister of the Year by The Banker, a publication nestled within the institutional embrace of the UK’s Financial Times. A decade later, Swarnim Wagle was thrust onto the TIME100 Climate list as a visionary leader navigating the existential perils of planetary heating.

On the surface, these honours are sold to the domestic public as triumphs of national, patriarchal pride. We are invited to celebrate the brilliance of our native sons who have conquered the boardrooms of internationally celebrated think tanks and academia, proving that a small, landlocked Himalayan republic can produce minds capable of swimming in the deep end of global statecraft.

Dive beneath the glittering surface, and a far more calculated, structural dynamic reveals itself. These awards are not dispassionate acknowledgements of technical genius. They are the ‘soft-power stamps of approval’ bestowed upon local stewards who ensure that when disaster strikes, the country remains safely anchored to the orthodoxies of the Western capital.

To understand the strategic function of this technocratic class, one must first dismantle the myth of the neutral technocrat. In international political economy, there is no such thing as an ‘unaligned’ economist. Every macroeconomic policy framework carries an ideology; every structural adjustment redistributes power, and the aligned economics aims to fulfil a very specific structural necessity for Western institutional governance. Global financial institutions like the IMF and the World Bank cannot impose policies directly on developing countries without triggering negative reactions and resistance. To avoid this, they rely on well-credentialed local economists who understand domestic politics. These leaders act as intermediaries, packaging Western economic models in local language and framing market-driven reforms as necessary, homegrown solutions. 

During the 2015 earthquake recovery, the prevailing policy framework did not treat the disaster merely as a humanitarian imperative. It used the moment to embed market-oriented principles into the foundation of state response. Instead of relying on direct state-led construction, the recovery strategy outsourced housing and infrastructure to private contractors, non-governmental organisations, and market mechanisms. At the international donor conference, Nepal was positioned as a disciplined, market-friendly borrower, securing massive loan packages from the World Bank and Asian Development Bank that came bound to strict fiscal restraint and deregulation. By turning a national humanitarian emergency into an opportunity to expand public-private partnerships and privatised supply chains, Mahat effectively signalled that market-driven solutions were the only viable way forward for Nepal’s economy. 

However, if every crisis is met by borrowing more from multilateral banks or adopting the latest Western policy trends, the state never builds its own internal muscle, sovereign financial reserves, or independent development model. The path of least resistance in the short term becomes a structural trap in the long term.

What seems interesting, though, is the operational genius of the ‘aligned economics’ that can be observed, especially in the moment of profound crisis. In Capitalism and Freedom, Milton Friedman penned the ultimate manual for neoliberal engineering: “Only a crisis, actual or perceived, produces real change. When that crisis occurs, the actions that are taken depend on the ideas that are lying around.” Nepal has served as a living laboratory for this exact dynamic twice in recent memory.

Following the 2015 earthquake, Finance Minister Mahat used the disaster to push market-friendly recovery policies and foreign loans. Today, Nepal’s main threat has shifted from sudden earthquakes to cascading climate disasters like flash floods, cloudbursts and landslides that destroy farms and infrastructure. In this updated framework, exemplified by Wagle’s inclusion on the TIME100 Climate list, environmental disruption is framed through the lens of global green finance. Here, the policy language evolves: ‘free markets’ give way to ‘carbon markets’. It is framed as a financial opportunity to connect Nepal to green bonds and UN climate funds.  

Even though the vocabulary has changed from ‘free markets’ to ‘climate finance’, the playbook remains the same. When severe climate disasters destroy local communities and wreck the national budget, aligned economics does not ask for unconditional financial reparations. Instead, it uses the crisis to push modern market tools like carbon credits, green bonds and debt swaps. By framing these financial solutions as absolute necessities, it bypasses local democratic debate and ties countries like Nepal deeper into Western financial systems. Local stewards are named to prestigious lists essentially as a reward for keeping the country friendly to foreign capital. In the end, global summits offer Nepal plenty of praise and token promises but leave the country to pay multi-billion-dollar recovery bills almost entirely on its own.

Defenders argue that Nepal is too small and aid-dependent to afford ideological purity, needing ‘safe hands’ who can win respect in Western capitals, negotiate loans, and keep the country solvent. While this pragmatism sounds reasonable, it comes with a massive long-term cost. When a nation outsources its economic vision to technocrats who answer to foreign institutions rather than their own people, it triggers a series of devastating structural consequences.

Overt reliance on aid and the market prevents Nepal from building strong, independent public institutions. When outsiders manage disaster and climate projects, the local government loses its governing power, reducing the state to a clearinghouse for foreign programmes, and when global financial rules dictate economic decisions, elections become empty rituals of identity and patronage. A small circle of foreign-approved elites starts controlling the state.

While complex market tools pile up debt, polluters operate unchecked, and aligned economics trade the nation’s economic independence for short-term foreign praise. Western awards do not measure success for Nepal’s working people; they measure how comfortably local leaders serve global capital. Nepal needs a vision built on sovereignty and prosperity-driven redistribution, not subjugation wrapped in foreign accolades.