A shift from personal access to rules-based governance........

A Question Worth Asking

What connects a quiet Prime Minister’s residence, the arrest of a well-known bichaulia, the enforcement of strict 9-5 office hours for bureaucrats, and the clearing out of partisan union spaces from government and college complexes?

At first glance, these may appear as isolated administrative actions.

But they may be pointing to something deeper.

The Silence at Baluwatar

Let me begin with a simple observation.

On my daily walks around the Baluwatar area in Kathmandu, I noticed something unusual. The Prime Minister’s residence was quiet. No line of cars. No crowd gathering outside the gate. No steady stream of visitors waiting their turn.

For those familiar with how things have typically worked, this was striking.

I still remember a senior bureaucrat once explaining to me how the Prime Minister’s residence functioned as a constant hub of “activity.” There was always a flow of people—some arriving as well-wishers, others seeking access, influence, or decisions. Depending on who they were, they were guided, filtered, or quietly turned away. And then there were the real “deal-makers” —often arriving late at night.

You get the picture.

This was not incidental behavior. It reflected a deeper system—what I have often described as an extraction–control nexus, where access to and control of power is mediated through personal relationships, informal channels, and discretionary authority.

So when I saw silence at the Prime Minister’s residence, I paused.

What did that silence mean?

Everyday Governance: A Familiar Pattern

Before interpreting that silence, let me step back and share a few lived experiences—ones that many of us will recognize.

During my time teaching at Tribhuvan University, I often found myself spending long hours in our departmental head’s office. Conversations flowed easily—black coffee in hand, colleagues dropping in and out, discussions ranging from academic matters to everyday banter. There was closeness. There was comfort.

But in hindsight, something else was happening.

While we gathered informally, our individual offices often remained empty. Time slipped by. Productive work was fragmented. We rarely paused to ask how much of our professional time was being absorbed by these relational spaces.

I have seen similar patterns in ministerial offices.

A constant flow of people. Endless conversations between officials and the visitors. Informal exchanges taking precedence. Meanwhile, citizens waiting in line—often watching as time stretched, unsure when or how their work would be done. Of course, there is also the desk—piled high with files waiting for decisions.

And, if we are honest, we have all been part of this system in our own way.

We have experienced—and even appreciated—how a well-connected friend can make a phone call to speed things up, clear a hurdle, or move a file forward. What would otherwise take days or weeks gets resolved in minutes.

It feels efficient. It feels helpful. But it also reveals something deeper. Access is not determined by rules. It is determined by relationships.

A Strength That Becomes a Constraint

There is also a deeper layer to this.

In a close-knit society like Nepal, relationships are not just social—they are a source of trust, support, and identity. We rely on them. We value them. In many ways, they are a strength.

But that same relational fabric and a culture of reciprocity and gratitude can quietly shape how systems operate.

When personal connections become the primary way to navigate institutions, what works well in small, trust-based settings becomes harder to scale into a professional, rules-based system. The boundary between social warmth and institutional function begins to blur.

Relational Rationality: Rethinking “Nepotism”

We often describe these patterns simply as “nepotism.” But that word does not fully capture what is going on.

What we are observing is a system where personal relationships are the default mechanism through which decisions are made and access is granted. In such a system, behavior that appears informal or even problematic is, in fact, rational within that context.

Researchers have long argued that societies operate along a spectrum. At one end are systems built on relationships—where access, opportunity, and outcomes flow through networks -personalized system. At the other are systems governed by impersonal system and rules—where procedures, not proximity, determine outcomes.

In relationship-based systems, access depends on who you know. In rules-based systems, access depends on what the rules say.

From this perspective, what we often label as nepotism is not just favoritism. It is the visible expression of a deeper institutional logic—what we might call relational rationality.

The System at Scale

These patterns are not confined to everyday interactions. They extend across the system.

We see it in the more visible forms—ministers and parliamentary members employing relatives as staff, or the informal use of state resources beyond their intended purpose. At times, even within structured institutions, authority can blur into personal use.

We see it in the normalization of privilege—government vehicles used beyond tenure, access extended through position rather than procedure.

But the pattern runs deeper.

Relational governance also shapes how external engagements are conducted. Diplomats often rely on informal channels, personal networks, and reciprocal favors to navigate foreign relationships. What appears as flexibility can, over time, dilute institutional consistency.

Then there is the entrenched culture of bichaulia—the middleman. The case in point is the arrest of a well-known one just this past week, which has already drawn in people of good repute. The relational system is like quicksand—it gradually pulls in and consumes everything around it.

This is not a marginal phenomenon. It sits at the core of the extraction–control system. It links political decisions, administrative processes, and economic transactions. It operates in the making and breaking of governments, in the allocation of contracts, and often within the gaps, loopholes and ambiguities of the national budget.

In such a system, formal rules exist—but outcomes are often shaped elsewhere, in the seat of power—at the Prime Minister’s or party leaders’ residences late into the night, or in the circles of bichaulia. The same relational networks can also help keep the resulting gains concealed and less visible.

For that very reason, recent efforts to require property disclosures from politicians and senior bureaucrats over the past two decades may cast a wider net. But unless wrongdoing is actually looked into and dealt with, the relational system we have all helped build—and often ignored—will keep coming back in different forms. This same logic has shaped our weak party system and the constant cycle of changing prime ministers.

The deeper question remains.

Can transparency measures alone address a system whose foundations are relational rather than procedural?

The First Break: Toward an Impersonal System

Seen through this lens, recent moves by the Prime Minister Balen begin to take on a different meaning.

Consider some of the early signals.

Restricting informal and private access to ministers

Moving to group-based interactions with foreign envoys

Enforcing fixed 9–5 working hours for bureaucrats

Setting clear service delivery timelines

Removing partisan union spaces from public institutions

Each of these steps may appear administrative. But taken together, they point toward something more fundamental.

They are attempts to replace a system of personal access with a system of rules-based access. In that sense, the quiet at Baluwatar may not simply be a change in style. It may be an early signal of a deeper shift.

Not Without Precedent

This kind of shift—from relational access to rules-based systems—is not unique to Nepal.

In different ways, countries have attempted to depersonalize governance through what, at first glance, appear to be simple procedural changes.

In Georgia, the wholesale replacement of a corrupt traffic police (3000) force broke a deeply entrenched culture of everyday bribery and informal favors.

In Singapore, strong enforcement combined with competitive public sector incentives transformed a patronage-driven system into a professional civil service.

In Estonia, digital governance reduced the role of intermediaries by minimizing face-to-face interactions, limiting opportunities for informal negotiation.

In Finland, transparency measures—such as public access to tax records—made discrepancies visible and harder to conceal.

In Hong Kong, an independent anti-corruption body signaled that even the most powerful were subject to the same rules.

None of these changes, on their own, were sufficient.

But each disrupted a key channel through which relational governance operated. Seen in this broader context, recent moves in Nepal begin to align with a familiar pattern.

Can the System Hold?

Of course, early signals are not the same as structural change.

Systems built over decades do not transform easily. The pull of relational governance is strong—because it works, in its own way. It solves problems quickly. It provides flexibility. It feels human.

But it also limits scale, consistency, and fairness. The real question is not whether these changes are desirable. It is whether they can be sustained.

Can a system that has long operated through relationships transition toward one governed by rules? Can impersonal processes take root in a deeply personal society? Can discipline outlast initial momentum? For now, we should be patient, give it time, and assess it objectively.

A Quiet but Important Shift

So we return to the original question. What explains the quiet Prime Minister’s residence?

Perhaps it reflects an attempt—still early, still incomplete—to change the way the system works. To move from a space defined by constant personal access to one governed more by process.

Balen may have done something fundamental with a simple act. But it is still early. We need to give these changes time—and space—for a full evaluation.

Finally, if this shift continues and deepens, it may mark the beginning of something more significant—not just a change in leadership style, but a gradual transition from a relational state to a more professional one.

And that, in the long arc of Nepal’s governance journey, would be no small change. That is, a shift from who you know
to what the rules say.

I hope this is not the end of reform, but the beginning.

Dr. Alok K. Bohara, Emeritus Professor of Economics at the University of New Mexico, writes as an independent observer of Nepal’s democratic evolution through the lens of complexity and emergence science. His systems-policy essays on Nepal’s socio-economic and political landscape appear on Nepal Unplugged.