Introduction: The Tragedy of Youth

It baffles the conscience that in a country where more than seventy young Nepalis have already died, and thousands more lie wounded and fighting for their lives, the political elite can still discuss damage to party offices and private property as if that were the tragedy. These young people were not anonymous casualties; they were the very embodiment of Nepal’s youth—their aspirations, hopes, their futures—all cut short by bullets fired in the streets of their homeland. And yet the leaders of this republic, cocooned in privilege and comfort, speak of brick and mortar before flesh and blood.

This is not merely a moral failure; it is a national disgrace and an international embarrassment. The youth have paid the price with blood; the older generation of rulers continues to calculate political advantage.

The Theatre of Inversion

Amid such tragedy, what stands out is the surreal theatre of Nepali politics. Leaders who have long entrenched the decay of governance suddenly claim the mantle of morality. Prachanda and Baburam, architects of a decade-long insurgency, now preach non-violence. KP Sharma Oli, lectures on women’s dignity. Sher Bahadur Deuba rails against nepotism. The Rastriya Swatantra Party (RSP) decries corruption. The Rastriya Prajatantra Party (RPP) extols consensus and harmony.

It is absurd, and yet the absurdity has real consequences. When perpetrators become preachers, words hollowed out for political survival, citizens lose faith. Youth lose hope. Institutions decay. Families grieve while politicians debate optics and photo opportunities.

Prachanda and Baburam: Non-Violence as Costume

Listening to Prachanda speak of *ahimsa* is like hearing an arsonist lecture on fire safety while still clutching matches. Baburam, once a champion of armed revolution, now presents himself as a Gandhian reformer. Non-violence is no longer conviction; it is costume. In Nepal, politics has long been masquerade, but the timing could not be more grotesque.

Oli’s Feminist Turn: Optics over Justice

KP Sharma Oli’s sudden advocacy for women’s rights is equally theatrical. A man who once trivialized women leaders now preaches equality and dignity. Don Quixote abandoning windmills to fight patriarchy comes to mind. Yet this is about optics, not justice. Feminism without women, dignity without sincerity—performance masks inaction, and rhetoric replaces reform.

Deuba and Nepotism: The Henhouse Sermon

Sher Bahadur Deuba, master of dynastic politics, rails against nepotism. The fox lecturing chickens about henhouse ethics comes to mind. Routine hypocrisy, normalized to the point of cynicism. Nepalis have seen this play too many times: keep power within the family, condemn others for doing the same.

RSP and RPP: Scandals and Consensus

The Rastriya Swatantra Party, once hailed as a meritocratic anti-corruption force, has quickly learned the old tricks. Loud denunciations of graft coexist with opaque deals and questionable alliances. To hear them rail against corruption is to witness the accused preside as judge, jury, and executioner in their own trial.

Meanwhile, the Rastriya Prajatantra Party, known for royalist nostalgia and polarizing rhetoric, now sings the virtues of consensus. Harmony from a heavyweight boxer advocating yoga: technically possible, fundamentally unconvincing. Consensus, in this case, is less bridge-building and more strategic alignment: “Agree with us, or be branded divisive.”

The Interim Government: Performance vs Leadership

The interim government, embodied in Prime Minister Madam Karki, underscores the tragic disconnect between spectacle and substance. Her recent visit to Tilganga Eye Hospital to meet Dr. Sanduk Ruit—refused by the doctor due to patient commitments—highlighted performative politics over leadership. When youth were dying and families grieving, the Prime Minister’s gestures seemed detached, almost absurd. Leadership demands empathy, courage, and decisive action; photo opportunities alone will not suffice.

Structural constraints compound the problem. Even if Madam Karki conducts elections after six months, the same parties and networks are likely to return, with only a few faces altered—a political *déjà vu*. Electoral continuity without reform risks reproducing the corruption, nepotism, and exclusion that sparked these protests. Meanwhile, Madam Karki will likely continue visiting offices, residences, and corridors of influence, searching for prospective ministers. Each visit, framed as diligence, risks appearing ritualized rather than substantive.

Popper’s Paradox of Tolerance: Lessons for Nepal

Karl Popper’s “Paradox of Tolerance” illuminates Nepal’s dilemma. Unlimited tolerance of corruption, nepotism, and abuse of power has produced an intolerant elite willing to fire bullets at youth to maintain privilege. Popper warned: to preserve a tolerant society, one must be intolerant of those who seek to destroy tolerance itself.

Nepal’s youth have exemplified this principle, demanding accountability. The challenge is delicate: channel justified anger toward harmful structures without creating new forms of absolutism. Only by confronting systemic decay can tolerance, justice, and democracy survive.

Conclusion: Satire, Resistance, and the Path Forward

Nepal today is a republic without republican virtue, a democracy without democratic culture, and a state whose institutions are hollowed by hypocrisy. Satire may diagnose the illness, but resistance is essential. Leaders must align words with deeds. Those who preach non-violence must confront violent pasts. Equality must be backed by structural reform. Anti-nepotism must be tangible; anti-corruption must start at home; consensus must serve the nation, not parties.

Silence is death. In this age of inversion, Madam Karki’s ongoing search for ministers risks being reduced to ritualized pageantry amid unresolved systemic rot. Without structural transformation, Nepal risks repeating the same cycle of governance devoid of moral authority, empathy, or accountability. The optics may shift, personnel may change, but unless the system itself is confronted, the republic will remain a parody of itself.

Perhaps the cruelest irony is that we are alive to witness this theatre, but we are also alive to resist it. Citizens must demand sincerity. Youth must insist on accountability. Otherwise, Nepali politics will not merely be laughable—it will become unbelievable. Satire, then, may be our last defense against despair. We laugh not because it is funny, but because silence is a far worse alternative.

(Dr. Janardan Subedi is Professor of Sociology at Miami University, Ohio. He writes on political ethics, democratic transitions, and institutional accountability in South Asia.)

@HT