A Coup Under the Cover of Law: The Nepali Congress’s Reversed Political Course
Sanket Kiranti
Congratulations to President Gagan Thapa for managing to make the Nepali Congress stand on its head after it had been standing on its feet. This is not praise; it is a pointed criticism of the party’s political direction. Before calling a change of leadership a democratic achievement, one question must be asked: Has it given the party a new foundation in ideas, organisation and public trust—or has it merely shifted the centre of power?
Bishweshwar Prasad Koirala tied national reconciliation, national independence and democratic socialism to the political identity of the Nepali Congress. These principles were not ornaments for speeches. National reconciliation placed shared national interests and democratic rights above internal divisions. Independence meant more than patriotic slogans; it meant building the country’s capacity to make its own decisions, produce for itself and shape its own economy. Democratic socialism placed economic opportunity, respect for labour and social justice at the centre of politics.
The question of how far today’s Congress has moved from those foundations is more consequential than Gagan Thapa’s election. Thapa’s political report acknowledges that the party has drifted away from the public by becoming entangled in the politics of power, positions, factions and access. It links nationalism to building national capacity in energy, food, technology, finance and knowledge, and proposes a production-oriented economy based on agriculture, industry, tourism, hydropower and technology. These goals could align with B.P. Koirala’s vision of independence. But words in a document do not, by themselves, restore an idea. They must be reflected in policy, budgets, organisational practice and results.
A modern political coup does not have to begin with tanks in the streets, the dissolution of parliament or the abrogation of the constitution. It can proceed in the language of law: placing loyalists in state bodies, shaping appointments and decision-making to serve one’s interests, and rendering dissent ineffective through procedures that appear lawful. In Nepal’s contemporary politics, the use of appointments and postings as instruments of party loyalty signals this risk. When proximity to power matters more than merit and public accountability, when independent bodies become dependent on the government’s commands, and when critics are sidelined in the name of procedure, institutions are hollowed out from within. Even when appointments appear to comply with the law, prioritising loyal operatives can cloak institutional capture in legality. Procedures may appear to have been followed while institutional independence and the public’s real choice are steadily eroded. The modern form of a coup is therefore not limited to military rule; it can also take the form of institutional capture under the cover of legality.
The power shift inside the Nepali Congress should be viewed through this broader political question. After Thapa became president through a special general convention, the Election Commission recognised his leadership, and the Supreme Court upheld that recognition. A review petition was later admitted, but no interim order was issued to suspend the decision. At the 15th General Convention, Thapa received 6,584 votes, while his rival, Shyam Krishna Khadgi, received 375. Of the 7,013 votes cast, 93.88 percent went to Thapa. The result shows that he had strong support among the convention’s voters. But a vote count alone cannot establish how inclusive the process was, what space dissent received or whether the party has achieved genuine internal consensus.
The charge of a “procedural coup” should be understood as a political metaphor. The question is not simply whether a vote took place. Who selected the delegates? How were the rules for decision-making set? Did dissenting groups have an equal opportunity to compete? And, after the result, was dissent given a place within the organisation? Democratic legitimacy must be assessed against these questions as well. Recognition by a court or the Election Commission may provide a legal foundation, but it does not automatically restore trust within the party. The Deuba faction’s objections and preparations for a parallel convention show that the division remains unresolved.
Thapa’s leadership has proposed contesting elections without alliances, under the party’s own symbol, with its own candidates and platform. The acknowledgement that past alliances weakened the Congress’s identity and its connection with voters is a useful act of self-criticism. But contesting alone is an electoral strategy, not proof of self-reliance. National independence will be demonstrated when the party shifts the economy away from import dependence towards production, when agriculture and industry create jobs, when young people can see a future at home, and when earnings from labour are invested in productive sectors. Without such results, “going it alone” will be just another appealing campaign slogan.
The Congress may present its ideas as a “new interpretation” or a synthesis of different approaches. Combining ideas is not a weakness in itself; what matters is whose interests that combination serves. If the private sector is made a partner in production and job creation, how will labour rights, social security and equal opportunity be protected? What policies will prevent the gains from economic growth from concentrating in a few hands? How will the goal of economic self-reliance be tied to budgets, investment, import substitution and local production? Without clear answers, a reinterpretation of democratic socialism may remain little more than a label.
The principle of national reconciliation must also be practised within the party. Reconciliation does not mean suppressing disagreement in the name of discipline; it means giving different views a secure place within shared rules and purposes. Pointing to the old leadership’s failures and treating every decision by the new leadership as automatically right is not change. Nor is blocking reform in the name of continuity with the old leadership a solution. The Congress can be renewed through open debate, transparent decisions and a fair sharing of responsibility between younger and older generations.
The election has given Thapa authority, but it has also placed a heavy burden of accountability on his leadership. The promise to end factionalism and politics of access must be reflected in candidate selection, appointments, transparent party finances and impartial investigations into corruption allegations. If a preference for loyal operatives in party appointments and decisions spreads to state bodies, the law itself can become an instrument for capturing power. Such a course may preserve the outward structure of democracy while weakening its substance.
Reviving B.P. Koirala’s Congress does not mean repeating his name. It means putting his political purpose into practice today: protecting dissent in a democracy, making decisions independently in the national interest, building self-reliance in production and remaining committed to social justice. Gagan Thapa deserves congratulations on his election as party president. But he does not deserve congratulations for making the Congress stand on its head. The test now is not how powerful a president he becomes, but whether he can put the Congress back on its own ideological footing and on the feet of the people.
