Janardan Subedi
A friend from Texas called me and said, “These days, you are writing a lot about the socio-political realities of Nepal. What’s going on?” I replied, “Since I learned, I know, and have been doing only five things in my life — listening, reading, thinking, speaking, and writing. So what else should I do? I am just giving continuity to what I know.” He laughed and said, “Unfortunately, in general, people of Nepal do not possess all of these five abilities. Hence, the country cannot progress.”
He pointed to a telling example: those who keep giving interviews all day in the media hardly listen to others. They rarely read, seldom write, and almost never think critically—yet they keep talking endlessly. This seemingly humorous comment touches the core of Nepal’s socio-political crisis. Our national discourse has become a performance stage where noise is rewarded more than knowledge, and visibility counts more than vision.
Ethical society
This issue, however, is not confined to politicians or moralists. It permeates nearly every segment of the population—from academia to so-called intellectuals, to professionals in law, medicine, media, and beyond. I find this deeply alarming because it represents a breakdown in the very faculties that make a democratic, ethical, and functioning society possible.
Let us break this down into the five acts:
1. Listening: Listening is the foundation of empathy and understanding, yet it is the least practiced. In Nepal, many public figures are in love with their own voice. Media panels are filled with people who interrupt more than they listen. In such a setting, the possibility of dialogue dies before it begins. We have substituted echo chambers for engagement.
2. Reading: A reading society is an informed society. Yet, our public culture—especially among elites—is remarkably non-reading. Speeches, articles, even parliamentary debates are rarely grounded in study or evidence. Decisions are made not from deep understanding but from hearsay, party directives, or populist instincts. The art of reading is slowly dying, and with it, the moral and analytical depth of our public conversations.
3. Thinking: Perhaps the most invisible casualty is critical thinking. Political actors, professionals, and even some educators operate in borrowed language and second-hand ideas. The courage to pause, reflect, and challenge one’s own assumptions has vanished. This intellectual laziness has led to a moral fog in which corruption, nepotism, and hypocrisy pass as pragmatism.
4. Speaking: Speaking should be an act of courage and responsibility. But in Nepal, it has become an act of evasion or performance. Public discourse is theatrical, not thoughtful. The loudest voices dominate, regardless of their merit. Speaking truth to power has been replaced by speaking what power wants to hear. This decline in speech is not just political—it is ethical.
5. Writing: Writing is the act of preserving thought, making arguments accountable, and contributing to collective memory. Yet serious writing—beyond Facebook posts and political pamphlets—is in crisis. In universities, academic writing is reduced to a requirement rather than a craft. In media, editorial standards have been sacrificed for speed and sensationalism. Thoughtful writing, which should be a national asset, is now a rare exception.
Importantly, these five acts—listening, reading, thinking, speaking, and writing—cannot be merely borrowed or performed in imitation of other societies. They must emerge organically from within the socio-cultural heritage and context of the society itself. Nepal cannot afford to copy and paste Western intellectual habits or institutional formats and expect them to function effectively in its own setting. For example, the Western model of debate, often confrontational and individualistic, may not harmonize with Nepal’s communitarian ethos and dialogic traditions. Without rooting these five practices in our lived realities, languages, and moral universes, they become hollow performances—imitative, not transformative.
In classical philosophy, Socrates famously declared in Plato’s Apology that “the unexamined life is not worth living.” This wasn’t a call for mere academic introspection—it was a call for ethical, civic, and moral accountability. In Nepal, we have arrived at a moment when the unexamined opinion is celebrated and rewarded. Those who question, critique, or demand clarity are marginalized. When societies stop asking questions, they stop being democratic.
From a social epistemology perspective, Nepal is experiencing a form of epistemic injustice, as defined by Miranda Fricker in her seminal work Epistemic Injustice: Power and the Ethics of Knowing (2007). Fricker explains how individuals and groups are systematically discredited or excluded as knowers due to social power structures. In Nepal’s case, the loud and connected often override the thoughtful and marginalized. Many individuals, particularly those from rural, indigenous, or working-class backgrounds, are denied recognition as credible knowers. Their experiences, observations, and interpretations are not taken seriously unless endorsed by someone with urban credentials or political connections.
Even in Hindu philosophy, knowledge—Gyaan (ज्ञान)—is more than information; it is a path toward realization and ethical living. A more suitable interpretation would be insightful understanding or realized knowledge. The Upanishads emphasize a threefold path for attaining wisdom: śravaṇa (deep listening), manana (critical reflection), and nididhyāsana (contemplative integration). This process mirrors the very five intellectual disciplines discussed earlier. Truth, in this tradition, is not shouted or broadcast—it is discovered through a disciplined and inward journey.
Intellectual clarity
To rebuild Nepal, we do not need only infrastructure or investment. We need intellectual and moral clarity. We need people who can listen with empathy, read with curiosity, think with rigor, speak with courage, and write with responsibility. These are not luxuries of the elite—they are prerequisites for any civilization that hopes to govern itself justly.
Until these five acts are reclaimed and grounded in Nepal’s cultural and moral soil, all other reforms will be superficial. No constitution, foreign aid, or election will save a society that has forgotten how to reflect. The decline of these faculties is not accidental—it is a political choice and a cultural failure. Reversing it must also be a deliberate and courageous choice.
(The author is a Professor of Sociology at Miami University, Oxford, Ohio, USA.)