The Nepali Congress stands at a defining moment. Its history is marked by courage, sacrifice, and moral leadership. Yet today, as it gathers for a special convention, the party faces a crisis that is organizational, structural, and moral. Recognizing the need for internal reform can inspire the audience to feel responsible for shaping its democratic future.
Voices from across generations highlight this crisis. Scholars such as Dr. Madhu Ghimire, though not active party members, have revisited the gradual erosion of democratic ideals that followed Nepal’s political transitions in the 1990s. Dr. Ghimire reflects on B. P. Koirala’s democratic socialism both in theory and practice, emphasizing the moral and ethical dimensions of leadership that have been gradually neglected. Meanwhile, party veterans and former leaders, such as Jay Prakash Anand, have shared their experience of marginalization within the organization. Though their roles differ, both underscore the same alarming trend: the Nepali Congress has replaced ethical leadership with factional management, and internal democracy with controlled participation.
Dr. Ghimire’s reflections on the sidelining of leaders such as Ganeshman Singh and Krishna Prasad Bhattarai are not nostalgic indulgences. They serve as warnings that democratic institutions can decay after victories, urging the audience to feel concerned about the party’s moral health and the importance of safeguarding democratic values.
At the heart of the party’s original vision was B. P. Koirala’s democratic socialism. This was an ambitious project to reconcile political freedom with social justice, and leadership with ethics. Emphasizing this legacy can motivate the audience to believe in the possibility of moral renewal within the party.
This erosion becomes especially evident in how the Nepali Congress handles generational change. Leaders like Gagan Thapa and Bishwa Prakash Sharma embody new energies that could revitalize the party. Recognizing their potential and integrating their ideas into the party’s future can catalyze democratic renewal, rather than sidelining them as threats.
This erosion becomes especially evident in how the Nepali Congress handles generational change. Leaders such as Gagan Thapa and Bishwa Prakash Sharma represent more than youth or rising ambition. They embody new political energies: deeper connections with the electorate, more transparent engagement, and a demand for accountability over unquestioning loyalty. Such qualities should be assets to the party. Yet, instead of being embraced as central to the party’s future, they are often treated as threats to be sidelined.
In earlier decades, factions were imperfect but functional mechanisms for managing internal diversity. To foster genuine democracy, the party must develop transparent processes that encourage debate and accommodate diverse viewpoints, rather than merely maintaining factional control.
Over time, however, factionalism became less about inclusion and more about control. Today, under the extended influence of figures such as Sher Bahadur Deuba and Ram Chandra Poudel, factional arrangements serve to consolidate power rather than expand democratic space. Loyalty to faction leaders is rewarded above competence; compliance is valued over conviction. Ethical independence is viewed as disloyalty, and popular legitimacy outside factional networks is treated as destabilizing. Faction leaders guard their territories closely, policing internal pluralism rather than protecting it.
It is in this atmosphere that Dr. Shekhar Koirala’s role must be critically examined. Many delegates at the special convention respect Dr. Koirala’s integrity and his long service. But respect and influence are not the same. For many party members, frustration arises not from his lack of credentials but from his consistent reluctance to confront the very mechanisms that have eroded internal democracy.
Dr. Koirala has repeatedly called for unity, calm dialogue, and respect for the process. He emphasizes that he has no personal ambition for power and that his priority is preventing a split in the party. On the surface, this sounds responsible. But unity without accountability is not true unity. It is the preservation of the status quo. When delegates from across the party call for clear naming of the problems—chief among them the concentration of power under Sher Bahadur Deuba—Dr. Koirala’s cautious language feels like avoidance.
To many inside the party, his stance appears timid. At this point in the party’s history, when many believe confrontation is necessary to reclaim internal democracy, repeated calls for balance and restraint are interpreted as political timidity. Leaders who refuse to name the source of a problem often end up defending it by default. In this context, Dr. Koirala’s hesitance to directly challenge the dominant leadership appears less like strategic prudence and more like political indecision.
Leadership is tested not in calm periods, but in crises. When structural decay has advanced, hesitation ceases to be prudence and becomes complicity. Moral authority without political courage does not bring reform; it postpones it. Delegates did not gather at a special convention seeking a careful balance. They came seeking clarity, confrontation, and direction.
This crisis is not isolated to one generation. Even seasoned leaders with unquestionable contributions—like Shailaja Acharya, Pradeep Giri, and Chakra Bastola—have found themselves marginalized. Their experience and historical insight have been overlooked in favor of factional competition. Similarly, the contributions of women leaders within the party—such as Shailaja Acharya, Uma Regmi, Jyoti Bhandari, and Indira Basnet—have often been downplayed, revealing persistent structural narrowness in party priorities.
Across regions, capable leaders have been pushed aside. In eastern Nepal, figures such as CK Prasai, Suryman Gurung, KB Gurung, and Benu Prasai made significant contributions but found themselves on the margins. In the west, stalwarts like Khumbahadur Khadka, Baldev Majgaiya, and Gehendra Sharma have similarly seen their influence reduced. These patterns suggest that the party’s crisis is not merely generational, but structural. It represents a failure to integrate talent and experience for the sake of factional consolidation.
Jay Prakash Anand’s reflections offer a vivid lens into this organizational pathology. He recalls leaders who endured jail, exile, and personal hardship for democracy, only to be sidelined by internal factionalism. His critique is not a nostalgic lamentation for the past. It is a warning about the present and the future. Unless structural and ethical distortions are addressed, the party risks betraying both its history and the democratic ideals it fought to establish.
This warning finds an urgent echo in Gagan Thapa’s words at the special convention. Thapa declared that the Nepali Congress is not a party of corpses or submissives. This statement is not a rhetorical flourish. It is a precise indictment of a party culture that treats its members as passive instruments rather than active participants. It rejects the notion that reverence for history should mean submission to unaccountable factional authority.
Thapa’s declaration struck a chord because it resonated with lived feelings inside the convention hall. The applause that followed was not for Thapa alone. It was a collective expression of frustration, moral impatience, and a demand for dignity. Delegates were not calling for chaos or anarchy. They were calling for recognition, agency, and a voice that matters within their own party.
This moment also exposed the limitations of cautious leadership. In times of institutional decay, moderation without confrontation loses its virtue. It becomes avoidance. Calls for unity that do not address deep imbalances ring hollow when the rank and file demand accountability. Leadership is tested not in periods of stability, but when truth carries cost.
Political parties are schools of democracy. If a party cannot tolerate principled disagreement internally, it cannot credibly defend democratic values externally. When a party’s internal ethics erode, public confidence shrinks. Citizens become cynical. Democracy becomes a hollow phrase rather than a lived experience.
Renewal is not an act of concession or weakness. The older generation is not being asked to disappear. They are being asked to shift from power holders to guardians of the institution and principle. Authority can be exercised without monopolizing decision-making. Legacy is preserved not through control, but through succession. B. P. Koirala, Ganeshman Singh, and Krishna Prasad Bhattarai are remembered not for clinging to power but for understanding sacrifice, restraint, and timing.
The Nepali Congress still possesses immense historical capital, ideological depth, and organizational reach. Its decline is not inevitable. What it lacks at present is ethical courage: the courage to let go when renewal demands it, to practice democracy internally as it champions it publicly, and to integrate leaders capable of sustaining its legacy.
This special convention represents a defining moment. The Nepali Congress can emerge as a vibrant, united, and forward-looking organization capable of carrying forward the legacy of democratic socialism. Or it can remain mired in factional survival, defined by loyalty over competence and inertia over innovation. The choice is stark, and the verdict will shape not only the party’s trajectory but the moral and democratic fabric of Nepal itself.
Acknowledgment: Special credit to Jay Prakash Anand for historical reflections and insights.
with People's Review
