Dr. Janardan Subedi
In the halls of Nepal’s Federal Parliament, silence rules. It is not the silence of contemplation, but of compliance—an obedience cultivated over years by fear, political hierarchy, and the erosion of personal conscience. In this chamber of 275 lawmakers, vibrant with potential, only a select few choose to speak unflinchingly. From Nepal’s dominant political families—the Nepali Congress, CPN-UML, and the Maoist Centre—nearly all members follow the unwritten code: don’t challenge your boss; don’t think out loud; don’t step out of line.
Yet, in this arena of submission, three names ring out: Dr. Chandra Bhandari, Dr. Sunil Sharma, and Dr. Amaresh Kumar Singh. Their voices echo not just because they are loud, but because they are honest. They speak when silence is politically safer. They critique when others hide behind the party curtain. And in doing so, they expose the deep culture of fear that suffocates Nepal’s political
core.
Not All Criticism Is Created Equal
Yes, we have heard sharp critiques from figures like Dr. Swarnim Wagle and Manish Jha of the Rastriya Swatantra Party, and from Gyanendra Shahi of the Rastriya Prajatantra Party. They speak with purpose and clarity, often raising fundamental questions about corruption, executive impunity, and institutional decay. Their interventions are valuable and necessary.
But they speak from the opposition—a space designed to challenge the government. It is expected of them. In fact, their public performance reinforces the appearance of parliamentary debate, even as the deeper structure remains unchanged.
By contrast, Dr. Bhandari and Dr. Sharma speak from within the ruling alliance, while Dr. Amaresh Kumar Singh, a true independent and a one-man show, speaks from beyond it all—with no party backing him, no whip controlling him, and no political machinery insulating him.
This is what makes their voices uniquely powerful—and uniquely vulnerable.
Dr. Chandra Bhandari and Dr. Sunil Sharma: Rebels Within
Within the Nepali Congress, which often markets itself as a democratic force, internal practice tells a different story. Power flows vertically. Loyalty is demanded, not negotiated. And criticism—especially of leadership—is discouraged, if not punished.
Dr. Chandra Bhandari has nevertheless broken through this shell of conformity. Whether it is criticizing the leadership’s failure to maintain ideological clarity or calling out the party’s moral compromises, Bhandari speaks with the urgency of someone who knows that silence is complicity.
Dr. Sunil Sharma, similarly, has emerged as a rare intellectual force within the ruling party. As a trained physician and first-term parliamentarian, his legislative conduct is driven not by party loyalty but by public ethics.
His recent deliberation during the national budget hearing was nothing short of extraordinary. In a room where even the opposition refrained from naming the elephant in the room, Dr. Sharma stood up and directly accused the government of allocating disproportionate resources to just five districts, while ignoring the rest of the nation. His statement was not only factually bold—it was politically seismic. He did what others, even those tasked with formal opposition, dared not do.
In doing so, Sharma did not merely critique a budget. He called out the embedded injustice within Nepal’s development discourse, where political favoritism shapes resource distribution. This was not just about numbers; it was about ethics, fairness, and national vision.
Dr. Amaresh Kumar Singh: One Man, One Mic, One Conscience
Then there is Dr. Amaresh Kumar Singh. A former member of the Nepali Congress, he left the party when its ideological substance and internal democracy collapsed under the weight of opportunism. He contested as an independent—and won. Today, he stands alone in Parliament, unattached to any party, unrestrained by any boss, and unprotected by any political faction.
He is, in every sense, a one-man show—and it is precisely this radical independence that gives his words force. He speaks not with caution, but with conviction. His critiques are not strategic—they are moral. His interventions shake the foundations of the Parliament, not because they are novel, but because they are true.
In a political culture where every word is weighed against future favors, Dr. Amaresh speaks as if he has nothing to gain and everything to lose. He knows the cost. And he still speaks. That is what sets him apart.
Why So Few Speak?
The answer lies in the political infrastructure of Nepal’s major parties: Nepali Congress, UML, and the Maoist Centre. These are not modern democratic organizations. They function more like neo-feudal hierarchies, where:
– Decisions are made by a handful of leaders.
– Advancement depends on loyalty, not merit.
– Silence is rewarded, while dissent is punished.
The UML, under KP Sharma Oli, operates with near-military discipline. Its members toe the line—or vanish into irrelevance. No one dares contradict the central leadership. Speaking independently is politically suicidal.
The Maoists, though technically in opposition, engage in transactional politics. Their critique of the government rises and falls with the tides of power-sharing. When it benefits them to support the government, they mute their moral compass. Their opposition is selective, not principled.
The Nepali Congress wears a democratic mask, but internally resembles a royal court. Most MPs behave as vassals of party lords, afraid to speak unless spoken to. The dominance of dynastic leaders has sapped the party’s moral authority, and the whip system has become a leash.
Within this structure, Dr. Bhandari and Dr. Sharma are insiders who behave like outsiders, while Dr. Amaresh Kumar Singh is an outsider who behaves like the only real representative inside the House.
The Culture of Fear: Manufactured, Internalized, Enforced
What connects all these dynamics is a culture of fear—a concept best understood through the sociological lens. As Barry Glassner notes, fear in politics is rarely about real danger; it is about control. In Nepal’s Parliament, the fear is not of assassination or violence—it is fear of:
– Losing election tickets.
– Losing ministerial appointments.
– Being excluded from party funding networks.
– Being ostracized from inner circles of influence.
This fear is manufactured by the party, internalized by the MPs, and enforced by the system. It is so pervasive that most lawmakers do not even need to be told to stay quiet—they self-censor instinctively.
This is why the rare voice sounds revolutionary. It’s not because it is saying something new—it’s because others have forgotten how to speak.
Three Voices That Point to a Different Future
The presence of Dr. Bhandari, Dr. Sharma, and Dr. Amaresh Kumar Singh in today’s Parliament proves one thing: courage is still possible. And when exercised, it resonates far beyond the chamber.
Their speeches have already begun to reshape public perception. Citizens now ask: If these three can speak, why not the rest? That question cuts to the core of democratic accountability.
If a handful of lawmakers can break the spell of silence, then the culture of fear can be disrupted. But that disruption must become institutional—not just individual. It must be cultivated, not isolated.
Conclusion: Speak, Even If You Stand Alone
Nepal is not short on talent. It is short on courage.
The Parliament is not broken because of a lack of law—it is broken because of a lack of spine. And that spine cannot be restored by opposition parties alone. It must come from within the ruling system—from those willing to risk their careers for the truth.
It is now time for every Nepali who has voted for these leaders to pause and ask: Where do they stand? What have they delivered? And more importantly, has the moment arrived to envision and build a homegrown, organic system of governance that reflects our values, aspirations, and sovereignty—before we lose it all?
That is why Dr. Chandra Bhandari, Dr. Sunil Sharma, and Dr. Amaresh Kumar Singh are more than parliamentarians. They are standards. They are precedents. They are flickers of democratic fire in a system going dark.
Nepal doesn’t need 275 tamed lawmakers. It needs a few more who are willing to speak as if truth matters—even when no one else is listening.
(Dr. Janardan Subedi is Professor of Sociology at Miami University, Ohio. He writes on political ethics, democratic transitions, and institutional accountability in South Asia.)