Here’s why I became a monarchist: an argument for a minimalist Monarchy

I don’t exactly remember when I transitioned from a staunch republican to a tepid monarchist because it happened almost unwittingly, slowly and imperceptibly in the beginning with lots of doubt, then suddenly. My initial reluctance gave way to an acceptance of monarchy, albeit still in favor of a minimalist one, after the unexpected death of my father — after I realized that not only had I lost my father, whose presence I had taken for granted on many occasions, but the whims of politics in my country of birth and the rising tide of modernity had left me adrift in a world of chaos, despair, and disillusion. The void created by my father’s death made me acutely aware of the vacuum created by the monarchy’s absence in the country. 

Before we go any further, I want to preface this article by stating upfront that this article does not seek to appeal to your rationality alone, although, at a deeper level, you might indeed find that and more, including some constitutional arguments. Being rational is not the same as being reasonable, for rationality falls utterly short in explaining the complexities of human nature. For good or ill, human nature has remained constant through space and time, governed not only by logic but equally by instincts and sentiments. A political system that shuns sentiments runs the risk of generating a backlash that is bound to take uglier forms in the long run. In that sense, this article is also a warning against human hubris.

Back to the article: following my father’s death, I longed for belonging—I needed an anchor in something permanent, and meaningful and transcended the pettiness of human affairs, like the unconditional love of a father. In the void created by my father’s demise, I yearned for a cosmic connection with my ancestors because my tradition tells me that my father had moved on to the realm of my ancestors. I started looking towards my country with the devotion of a pilgrim who wants to dissolve in the service of a higher order. I wanted that oceanic feeling—as Freud called it—with my fatherland, that feeling of oneness, a connection of the soul to an enduring value that lives on in the hearts of all who continue to believe in their unique destiny manifested in their heritage, an idea that has unfortunately gone out of fashion under the relentless attack from the utopian globalists, inane postmodernists, and blinkered rationalists. We have unfortunately turned into a society that places more value on abstract academic knowledge while giving short shrift to practical wisdom. 

By way of clarification: my renewed respect for monarchy isn’t political because I am not looking for a monarchy that thrusts itself into politics. I want a monarchy that acts and behaves like a common Nepali family—a monarchy that does not require an expansive and ostentatious stage, but one that fits in the sacred corner of every household as a reminder that there is a constant even within the uncertainty. I have been steeped in the political tradition of American republicanism and have always been a devout believer of constitutionalism and the rule of law — I cannot be anything but a democratic monarchist. My renewed respect for the King, therefore, ostensibly stems from historical, cultural, personal, and spiritual reasons. 

Our society, like any society past or present, has problems, but none of them warrant an irreversible punishment on the King. We have a complex country with varied problems that aren’t going away anytime soon; no magic wand will make our problems vanish in a swipe, nor is the new constitution a panacea for all our troubles. Two hundred years from now, Nepalis will still be fighting over politics, power, identity, and allocation of resources. Continuously scapegoating the institution of monarchy in our zealous attempt to tackle problems universal to all societies and civilizations across time and space is both foolish and cruel. By exacting an irreversible punishment on the King, we are also depriving the future generations of their history and heritage. Wouldn’t it be wiser not to bequeath this millstone around the neck of the posterity? For how long will the posterity continue to be mired in the problems of our making?The British philosopher, Roger Scruton liked to say that we inherit the past and “the inheritance brings with it not only the rights of ownership, but also the duties of trusteeship.” We have a duty to preserve our history for future generations. Our extreme and unkind position today should not plunder those not yet born of what is rightfully theirs: their history and heritage. 

Dear reader, here’s the interesting part: I have been a gung-ho republican in the past, so I understand the reluctance to accept monarchy. I remain mildly sympathetic to the political changes and events that led to the new constitution. To the extent that the Maoist movement and the subsequent peaceful demonstrations helped usher in a new political regime designed to ensure equality before the law and protection of individual rights and liberties, I am still partial to the changes. At one point in the past, I, too, was in support of ousting the erstwhile King. But that was a long time ago, and the world has dramatically changed since then. It is unwise to continue to punish King Gyanendra for eternity. We cannot take away from him what is rightfully his: his crown. He is human, and humans make mistakes. King Gyanendra has duly paid for the mistakes he made. It’s about time we show a little mercy and kindness towards a man, a King, who is weighed down by the burden of history on his shoulders. This moment calls for our goodness of heart to alleviate some of his suffering. If the imperfections of our current republicanism don’t call for an upending of the republican order, the imperfections of Monarchy shouldn’t warrant an irreparable sacrifice from the King. A stable middle-ground between republicanism and monarchy ought to be our future. As a nation, we bear the historical burden to find a space for the monarchy as a representative of our collective history, in some corner of our constitution, where there is no incentive for the King or his successors to take away from people what is rightfully theirs: their liberty and freedom. 

At this early stage in our constitution’s history, we should be viewing the constitution as a living document, one that changes form as new problems crop up. Indeed, there are other schools of thought on how to interpret the Constitution, but our Constitution is very young, and like it is with any young person, it is much easier to teach a new language to our Constitution by way of amendment. Rather than overhauling the constitution, which I am afraid will bring a cascade of problems to the fore once again, the best way to accommodate the monarchy is through an amendment. An amendment also serves as a reminder to the King and his successors that their newfound space is a result of the grace and goodness of heart of the Nepali people. Simply because this novelty hasn’t been tried before doesn’t mean we cannot incorporate monarchy into the current Constitution. Rather than following the examples of other nations with distinct histories, we must figure out our own “Nepali Way” going forward.

When King Birendra and his family passed away, my dad and my uncles shaved their heads out of respect for the deceased King. On one level, they were mourning the loss of their guardian angel, a King whose gentle demeanor endeared him to the nation, but at a deeper level, they were paying tribute to something transcendental and timeless, to something metaphysical, to a shared destiny which accepted the King as a guardian, a father figure.

It is commonly said that the United States had two founding moments. The first one was after the Revolutionary War against the British and the subsequent drafting of the world’s first constitution; the second was after the Civil War and the passage of the Thirteenth Amendment, which outlawed slavery in the US. The US was forced to find a space for those who weren’t included in the constitution in the first round, but that came at a huge cost after as many as 700,000 men lost their lives in the US Civil War. The problem with the Nepali constitution in its current form is that we have created a highly unstable system by sidelining the King and his supporters. Combine that with the incompetence and widespread graft prevalent within the current system and you have a recipe for an authoritarian strongman waving a magical wand and luring people like a pied piper. 

Over the last few decades, we have turned the Nepali Monarchy into a punching bag for all things evil and wrong in the country. Those who sit atop the perches of opinion-making bodies in the country continue to level accusations on Monarchyfor what arethe clear failures of Nepali republicanism. The vicarious appropriation of victimhood, drawn from the resentment-laden literature of post-colonists and Marxist intellectuals, has all but hollowed out our op-ed culture which is reluctant to acknowledge the shifting mood in the country. All indications point to the fact that the electorate has sharply shifted to the right, and if we do not act now, we might be headed toward a graver danger. Those children who came of age after the establishment of republicanism in Nepal do not share the same indignant view of the monarchy with the older generation. Indeed, many young people draw pride from watching YouTube videos of late Kings Mahendra and Birendra and have developed a dismal view of the republic. As the failures continue to pile up, young people will increasingly pine for what they think were the glory days of the past.

The real challenge today is to keep the republican temper intact while draining out the politics of resentment and division. Ensuring equal protection under the law and the right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness of all individuals should be our priority. The inclusion of monarchy in the constitution does not preclude us from striving towards those goals. There is also a paradox at play here: the wealthier the people become, the more affinity they will form with their culture and heritage. So, the argument that people will lose interest in Monarchy once they see a material improvement in their lives is not entirely true. People in the middle class are more likely to pursue a more holistic sense of existence, including a deeper attachment to their history and culture.

Not everyone who reads this is going to agree with me. Some might even find it regressive and outdated. But I also know that there will be many, especially the youths, who want to chart an original course for the country, a path that is uniquely Nepali. This article is mainly targeted toward those youths who are not hardened in their hearts and minds and who are confident that we, as a country, can amend the constitution for a distinctly Nepali flavor.

When King Birendra and his family passed away, my dad and my uncles shaved their heads out of respect for the deceased King. On one level, they were mourning the loss of their guardian angel, a King whose gentle demeanor endeared him to the nation, but at a deeper level, they were paying tribute to something transcendental and timeless, to something metaphysical, to a shared destiny which accepted the King as a guardian, a father figure. As more and more youths leave the country, they will look back to their time with a sense of nostalgia and longing. The republic is unlikely to attract them, but the monarchy will. It’s in our best interest to find a space for the King and his family.