[Via... http://www.egroups.com/group/Communist-Internet ] . . ----- Original Message ----- From: Magnus Bernhardsen <[EMAIL PROTECTED]> To: <[EMAIL PROTECTED]>; <[EMAIL PROTECTED]>; <[EMAIL PROTECTED]>; <[EMAIL PROTECTED]>; <[EMAIL PROTECTED]> Sent: Sunday, May 20, 2001 8:57 PM Subject: [red_activism] Nepali Maoists: background (2/2) The pain and suffering that the brutal police action left in its wake would have provide the long-lasting motive energy for the Maoist insurgency, and it is on the foundations of the angered peasantry targeted by the police that the insurgents have been able to build the larger edifice of the People's War of today. This is borne out by the results of a recent opinion poll conducted by Himal Khabarpatrika, Kathmandu's Nepali-language fortnightly. In west Nepal, where the police actions have been most concentrated, 30 percent of the respondents attributed the rise of the Maoists to police high-handedness (The national average was 19 percent. On the other hand, 38 percent attributed it to poverty and unemployment, 17 percent to the Maoist ideology and 9 percent to fear of the Maoists). In the end, all efforts of successive governments to bring the Maoists to heel with force failed. Sending in the police with a one-point brief to quell the insurgency without considering that its fallout was a mistake the political bosses in Kathmandu have possibly lived to regret. The other miscalculation was not realising the extent to which a police force trained to handle civilian law-and-order situations can take on what turned out to be a highly motivated group ready to kill and be killed. The bravado of the government and the police can, to some extent, be attributed to the pitiful armoury that the Maoists fielded in the initial years of their insurgency. This consisted of a few .22 and 12-bore rifles looted from village bigwigs, but mostly ancient muzzle-loaders and country-made guns fashioned by blacksmiths. But the Maoist arsenal grew formidable with firearms and ammunition captured from the police during their mass attacks. Till the end of March 2001, the Maoists had taken nearly 600 'three-nought-three' rifles from the police along with a couple of hundred of other weapons. Similarly, the haul from the civilian population has also crossed 500. That is again classic Maoist strategy: "To replenish our strength with all the arms. captured from the enemy." Apart from guns, the Maoists have,with devastating results, fielded explosive booby-traps, pipe bombs and homemade 'grenades' against the police (these 'grenades' using the spring mechanism of cheap ball point pens to trigger the explosion within the the short length of the metal piping). Police sources say training in the use of explosives has been provided by Maoist groups based in India, namely the Maoist Communist Centre (MCC) of Bihar and the Communist Party of India-Marxist Leninst (People's War) in Andhra Pradesh. The Maoists have also lately begun sourcing weapons from the illegal arms bazaar of the neighbouring Indian states of Bihar and Uttar Pradesh. They have the wherewithal. According to government figures, the Maoists have so far looted NPR 250 million from banks and other institutions. However, analysts in Kathmandu believe that with money extorted in the form of 'donations' and 'taxes', the Maoist treasury could be well over NPR 5 billion. According to the police, captured militants have admitted that the Maoists have by now acquired automatic weapons, although these have not so far been used in the fighting (see cover image). Going by the pictures by journalists on "guided tours" of Maoist-held areas, the muzzle-loaders that were ubiquitous even till two years ago have disappeared from the scene. The Maoists now not only have motivation, they have the arms to fight a police force that has neither the will power nor the equipment and training to take on guerillas. In sharp contrast to the insurgents' expanding arsenal, the Nepal Police is stuck with antiquated weaponry, in particular the 303s of World War II vintage that reportedly jam after a few rounds of firing. The police have for long complained that if they are to tackle the Maoists, they need to be equipped better. This demand, however, has not been acted upon as it involves bringing in the Royal Nepal Army, long since distrustful of the police and unwilling to let it handle modern arms. Indeed, supported by the royal palace, the army has been able to deny the Nepal Police the modern weapons it needs so desperately if it is to fight a declared 'war' by highly motivated insurgents. Especially since the lost battle in Dunai, the headquarters of Dolpa district, the police have been on the defensive vis-�-vis the Maoists. This is reflected in the number of killings; in 2000, more people (mostly policemen) were killed by the Maoists than Maoists and their supporters killed by the police. The Maoist tactic is to hurl homemade bombs, detonate pressure-cookers packed with explosives, and with the cowering policemen in disarray, attack in a swarm of hundreds (human waves reminiscent of the Chinese during the Korean War) to take police outposts. Meanwhile, the policemen have abandoned outlying posts in the districts that are highly affected by the insurgency, and concentrated forces in a few places. But even this type of strategic withdrawal did not prevent the Maoists from carrying out attacks such as the ones at Rukum and Dailekh in early April or the earlier one in the same region on a convoy carrying the chief justice of the Supreme Court, in which five were killed, including the registrar of the regional court. As a consequence of all these factors, police morale is down. There have been mass resignations and desertions after the Rukum and Dailekh losses. It does not help matters that the system of posting policemen to Maoist areas is fraught with reverse favouritism and influence-peddling. Besides, unlike in the army, the policemen are not trained to fight as a loyal band, and the seniors rarely fight in the trenches with the rank and file. It is an indication of the times that, in a country with such high unemployment, the number of applicants for the once-coveted police jobs is down drastically. War or peace One of the constants since the People's War's beginning has been the repeated call that a "political solution" be sought to resolve the Maoist issue. At the political level, this has mainly emanated from the CPN-UML, and subsequently its breakaway CPN-ML. But apart from using the Maoists' rise as a stick to beat the Nepali Congress with and trying to lay responsibility for the conflict at its doorstep, the two major communist forces have done precious little to indicate the shape and focus of their proposed "political solution". Till now, their role has been to publicly nay-say any and all measures brought forward by the government, such as their resolute opposition to the use of the army option or the formation of a paramilitary police force. This resistance can be seen as an opportunistic one, since going by their past record, it can be conjectured that if it were in power, the mainstream left would quite likely use all available force at its disposal to subdue the Maoists. This for the sole reason that the latter's growth in popularity can only be at their own cost in terms of supporters and votes. This indicates, if anything, a cynical use of the situation by the main left opposition parties in particular. As things stand, the left parties have hardly stopped pontificating on what the government should or should not do in terms of running the country, but they have not come up with anything innovative on how to engage the Maoists apart from saying that they have to be brought to the negotiating table. Negotiations are of course one way forward, and the call for talks has grown louder over the last two years, mainly because the police seemed to be making no headway and also because, as the May 1999 elections gave the Nepali Congress a parliamentary majority, it was expected that the new government would get cracking on resolving this foremost national challenge. And indeed, the new prime minister, Krishna Prasad Bhattarai, set up a committee under Sher Bahadur Deuba (prime minister at the time the People's War was launched and the earlier Operation Romeo undertaken) to suggest ways to solve the Maoist problem. As part of that process, the government established contact with the Maoist leadership and received a positive response. In a letter to a government contact in February 2000, Prachanda listed three demands and wrote: "Should these minimum conditions be fulfilled, we are ready to send our representatives for high-level negotiations and we would like to inform you that we will cease all operations during the period of talks." But in March 2000, Congress infighting led to the ouster of Bhattarai, and Girija Prasad Koirala took charge once again, listing among other things the former's failure to control the Maoist advance. One fallout of the toppling game was that Koirala's former prot�g� Deuba emerged as his main rival within the Congress. The Deuba committee's mandate was then held hostage to the political rivalry between the two leaders. It was clear the Koirala side would not be willing to give Deuba any leeway which could lead to some sort of breakthrough, while Deuba himself used this issue to jockey into position for the Koirala's job. Meanwhile, Koirala's government made its own attempt at negotiation. With the help of Padma Ratna Tuladhar, a maverick human rights activist of the left, it got in touch with the Maoists. Deputy Prime Minister and Home Minister Ram Chandra Poudel even had a meeting with the Kathmandu 'area commander' of the CPN (Maoist). Things were looking bright when the government released Dinesh Sharma, a Maoist central committee member, in keeping with one of Prachanda's demands. However, it committed a blunder by first having Sharma renounce his party at a press conference. The Maoists cried foul and backed out immediately, and Padma Ratna Tuladhar was furious as he believes that the two sides had never been closer to talks. Writing in a national daily soon after, Prachanda nevertheless seemed willing to talk: "If the government reveals the whereabouts of those under their custody without playing games, we are ready to talk." There has been no more contact between the two sides since. Nepali Congress sources claim, without elaboration, that various channels are being used to get in touch with the Maoists, and there is credible evidence to show that it is the Maoists who are presently playing hard to get. It is assumed that they believe that they are on a victorious phase in the hills, and see no reason to talk at the moment. Indeed, with the continuing disarray in Kathmandu, it would be natural for them to do so. The Great Nepali helmsman Then in late February this year, the Maoists surprised everyone with a statement issued after their Second National Conference in which they outlined their future course of action. Most prominent among the declarations was the elevation of Prachanda from general secretary to chairman (in place of the Great Helmsman) and the adoption of 'Prachanda Path' as the guiding principle for the Maoists. (Path is used in the Nepali connotation, which also means "road". The similarity of this term to Peru's Shining Path, however, is believed to be purely coincidental) The February declaration called for a "mass armed struggle" to go together with the People's War. Significantly, the statement also called for a meeting of "all concerned parties" and the formation of an interim government that would draft a new constitution for the country. Considering that the Maoists' September 1995 Central Committee document was clear that they would "never allow this struggle to become a mere instrument for introducing partial reforms in the condition of the people, or terminating in a simple compromise by exerting pressure on the reactionary classes", and one of the main hurdles during possible talks would be their demand for a constituent assembly, observers saw this new development as a climb-down from their earlier uncompromising stance. Analysts believe that the Prachanda Path declaration, even while confirming Pushpa Kamal Dahal's unquestioned helmsmanship within the Maoists hierarchy, indicates the willingness of the Maoists to eventually join mainstream. After the Prachanda Path announcement there began a flurry of activity on the government side. On 6 March, the government complied with the long-standing Maoist demand that it reveal the whereabouts of their comrades in custody. A list containing more than 300 names of Maoist suspects was released and Deputy Prime Minister Ram Chandra Poudel said, "The name of every single person detained or serving a sentence in prison has been presented. They [the Maoists] now have to establish contact." Human rights activists got moving as well and they named a team, including Padma Ratna Tuladhar, that would help facilitate talks. But it was all much ado about nothing. By April, the Rukumkot and Dailekh killings had taken place. The Maoist leadership suggested rather ingenuously that these killings-of lowest rung policemen cowering in police posts and hardly the representative of state terror for the moment-were meant to goad the government towards talks. If that was so, the timing was unpropitious. The Girija Prasad Koirala government was under assault from all quarters. Even as the intra-Congress squabble continued unabated, the main opposition, CPN-UML, had boycotted parliament throughout the entire winter session demanding Koirala's resignation on an aircraft leasing scandal. Having wended his way carefully for months to get royal approval for an ordinance that would set up an armed police force, it was imperative for Koirala to get parliamentary approval for it to become law. The ordinance lapsed even without it being presented in parliament, which never met.. Even though King Birendra subsequently provided approval to the armed police ordinance submitted directly to him, it will still have to be endorsed by the parliament at its next sitting. Even if were to be thus endorsed, it will still be at least a year before the first para-military company will march out of the training barracks, hopefully trained to tackle violent insurgency the way the civilian police force never was. What is to be done in the interim is a dilemma for the government. Both former prime minister Krishna Prasad Bhattarai and Girija Prasad Koirala (who at the time of going to press, was holding on to his post amidst a firestorm of opposition) have at various times threatened to use the army against the Maoists, but have never been able to go the whole distance, caught as they are in a web of intrigue spun by and around the royal palace. In their statements, the Maoists have continuously taunted the government to try and use the army, claiming that they are ready to tackle the soldiers. That could be mere brave talk, for till now the Maoists have been scrupulous in avoiding any skirmish with the men in green. In fact, up to some years ago, the main target of the Maoists were the telecommunication towers on isolated hilltops: not one has been attacked since the army was assigned to guard them. In Rukum District, where the military is building a road through areas the Maoists control, there is an unstated understanding under which the each side studiously ignores the other. In fact, the Maoists may pass a military camp on their way to attack a police post and return via the same trail, with nary a challenge. One of the biggest questions raised against the Royal Nepal Army was its disinclination to come to the aid of the beleaguered police force at Dunai when help was sought, as well as its reluctance to pursue the Maoists as they beat their retreat down the Bheri gorge. It is possible that the deployment of the army alone, with threat of action, could itself prove a great deterrent to the Maoists activity and its spread. However, the biggest hurdle to any such move comes from the army brass itself. Speaking to a newspaper last year, Commander-in-Chief Prajjwal Shumshere Rana said the army could be deployed only with a consensus among all the political parties. While on the one hand this can be seen as the army chief's wariness of the short-term games that political parties like to play, it was nevertheless a rather brazen act of challenging the elected government's authority over the army. The controversy as to who actually controls the Shahi Nepali Sena (Royal Nepal Army) has continued and the "royal" in the name is indication enough to conservatives as to where it should be. The constitution provides for a National Security Council (in which the government ministers are in majority) to direct the army while the king has been named its Supreme Commander. Other than the statement by the Commander-in-Chief (and another one in similar vein made more recently by him, see below), the army has not so far openly questioned civilian authority. For example, it went along with the partial deployment of soldiers in 16 district headquarters after the Dolpo attack. However, the army has successfully dragged its feet on each and every government initiative, beginning with its reluctance to equip the police with automatic rifles. The latest instance of the army's trying to put a spanner in the works has to do with the Integrated Security and Development Plan (ISDP), a NPR 400 million (USD 5 million) undertaking that would carry out development works in the Maoist-affected districts under the authority of the civilian Central District Officers, with the soldiers providing back-up support. This carrot-and-stick approach to tackling the Maoists insurgency-delivering infrastructure and other development benefits while deploying the soldiers to keep the rebels from disrupting the projects-is said to have taken some convincing from Prime Minister Koirala before King Birendra approved of it. However, a week later, the army chief repeated his demand for consensus. "The Royal Nepal Army is not a party-affiliated mechanism but a national institution," he said, creating a minor crisis of confidence. The role of the mainstream left vis-a-vis this matter of army deployment has also been cynical. While they are convinced about this need for civilian control of the soldiers, they have refused to support the government on this score because it would provide support to the 'enemy' in the form of Girija Prasad Koirala. Thus, when a crucial exercise was being carried out to test the constitutional standing of the Royal Nepal Army, they have pretended not to be looking. Scorched earth The success of the ISDP is in question by the controversy surrounding its very birth, as with the establishment of the armed police. In the heartland when the police action and 'state terror' was at its worst, it is unlikely that the "carrot" of the ISDP will itself suffice to win over the populace. There is no indication that the Maoists are going to cease their operations and until that happens death will continue to stalk the sons and daughters of Nepali peasants, whether it is the Maoist guerrilla fighting for social equity or the police constable escaping poverty through government service. Sending in the armed police or the army will be only option available to the government if its overture for talks is not reciprocated. But there is actually no guarantee that the military will succeed where the police have so far failed. And the scenario is dire if the military's involvement and a possible scorched-earth policy leads to the explosion of a full-scale insurgency. The hills of Nepal is perfect guerrilla country and the estimated 5-10,000 trained fighters could easily prove a match for any army. The most the troops may be able to do is contain the spread of the Maoists. In any case, soldiers let loose on the countryside are sure to be unleash much more bloodshed, including those of civilians caught in the crossfire. The waging of war by a military is somewhat different from that by a civilian police force, and, in a manner of speaking, the Maoists themselves may want to consider whether it was worth creating a situation where soldiers are let loose on the populace. The situation is getting desperate in the hills of Nepal (the Maoists have not yet infiltrated the Tarai or the high mountains). Nearly 1700 Nepali lives have been lost in a war that has been characterised by extreme ruthlessness on both sides. The attack on the Chief Justice and the butchering of policemen in Rukum and Dailekh has shaken the complacent middle class out of its mistaken belief that the conflict cannot and will not affect them. But, sensibly perhaps, most want to see the fighting end through dialogue. In the Himal Khabarpatrika opinion poll taken two months ago, a majority (fully 76 percent) of Nepalis wants the issue resolved through talks (16 percent think an all-party government can do it, 13 percent want an amended constitution. Only 5 percent and 4 percnt want mobilisation of the army and the armed police). This desire of the populace for talks indicate that it is still not too late for the Maoists and the national political class to pull back from the brink. But what would the talks focus on? The government is clear that there can be no negotiating the "spirit enshrined in the preamble of the constitution", namely, constitutional monarchy and parliamentary democracy. If that is the case, it would be plausible to ask what else is there to discuss with the rebels. However, going back to the February Prachanda Path declaration, would it be implausible to construe that the Maoists themselves are seeking a way out of the jungle and into the mainstream? Let's consider the situation from Maoists' angle. They have succeeded in carving out 'base areas'. That was easily enough accomplished by chasing away the representatives of state power-the police-from hillsides which in any case are otherwise devoid of government presence. Consolidating that hold over time is a different proposition. The end of police terror may have been welcomed by the people and measures like outlawing gambling and usury and controlling alcohol may be momentarily effective but how sustainable can they be in the long run? Condemning 'class enemies' to forced labour through 'people's courts' may contain a sense of retributive justice in conditions that are still murky, and it may be uplifting to be part of large rallies in support of the Maoist movement. Ultimately, however, the question of social and economic progress arises. Development work has come to a near complete halt in the hills of Nepal, and even basic delivery programmes have been affected in large parts of the country. Certainly, the Maoists have set up 'people's governments', but they must know that to achieve anything substantial and long-lasting countrywide they have to reach for power in Kathmandu, which is bound to require compromising on some of their adamant stands (unless, of course, they continue to believe that it can be achieved by fighting in the face of social, economic and geopolitical realities). How viable are such base areas as have been created by the Maoists anyway? "In China, guerrilla war had become an objective necessity because of other factors such as the Japanese occupation. In Nepal, the so-called people's war has grown out of the party's 'subjective' judgement," says Shyam Shrestha. In Mao's case, warlordism was rampant in his country and he actually had to set up a country within a country. In Mao's own words: "China is a vast country; hence one need not worry about whether there is room enough to move around." That is not so with Nepal. Also, the Maoist fighting force is getting larger by the day, but its ranks are increasingly filled more by frustrated and romanticised youth rather than by the ideologically committed senior cadre. These young men and women have by now been socialised into violence and the power of the gun, and the most difficult task yet for the Maoist leaders could be of keeping them on a leash. Hari Rokka, a senior activist of the Nepali left, says that one of the Maoists' biggest problems is the lack of a mid-level leadership since they are mostly either at the top of the hierarchy or fresh entrants. The fact that after the attack on the motorcade of the chief justice, the Maoist 'regional commander' (who is one of the MPs elected from Rolpa in 1991) stated that it was not intended, and the execution-style killing of many policemen during the Rukumkot attack seem to indicate a waywardness among the Maoist fighting force that is worrying. After all, it is not such a huge jump from insurgency to banditry, and already with the weakening of the police force the public at large is at the mercy of a law-and-orderless situation even beyond the Maoist controlled areas. Then there is the very distinct possibility of a difference of opinion among the top leadership, the bane of communist parties in general (as proven again and again by Nepal's own left) and of underground movements in particular. Besides the regular purges carried out, reports of not everything being well between the top two leaders Prachanda and Baburam Bhattarai themselves are regular staples of the Kathmandu rumour mill. An agriculture technician by training, Prachanda, the organisational brain behind the Maoists, is a home-grown politician, while Bhattarai, known to be the party ideologue, cut his political teeth as a student leader among Nepali emigres in India while acquiring a doctorate in architecture from Delhi's Jawaharlal Nehru University. Their styles are quite different, say those who have associated with both. Prachanda is more comfortable with intrigue and reportedly not averse to making trade-offs to take his party (and himself) to Kathmandu's seat of power, while Bhattarai is said to be an idealist who would want to go the extra distance in the cold, if necessary. It can also be asked if such a state as the Maoists propose is at all possible in Nepal. This is not a unitary country like, say China, from where Maoism sallied forth. With a variegated structure in ethnicity, language, regionalism and social systems, a state founded on the foundations of a 'class struggle' alone is not likely to carry very far in Nepal (although it is certainly astounding the distance the insurgents have managed to travel). Neither is it clear how the Maoists hope to tackle the Indian state once their activities become loud and violent enough for New Delhi to sit up and take notice. Mainstreaming Maoism It could be said that the Maoists of Nepal have come this far not because they have been extraordinary tacticians, but rather because the opposition has been so hapless. After all, they confront a newly democratic state run by a government that is saddled with: 1) an unmotivated bureaucracy, 2) a police force that is not trained to handle an insurgency, coupled with poor intelligence gathering, 3) infighting within the ruling party, 4) a belligerent opposition, 5) an uncooperative army, and 6) a king who, perhaps, holds his cards close to his chest. It is due to Nepal's relatively small size that the Maoists have been able to create such an impact so quickly. But again, by the same token, the matter could possibly be reversed as easily, if the various roadblocks were to be removed. Most importantly, a true long-term understanding among the political parties on the need to proceed with strengthening the parliamentary system of government would go a long way in their coming to agreement on how to solve the Maoist problem. If that happens, it is likely that the Maoists would tire of the prospects of long years in the jungle and come more willingly to the table than they have till now. This similarity in the background and thought-process (not to mention caste) of the Maoists with the above-ground leadership of the left would buttress the argument that the Maoist leadership would indeed seek a 'safe landing' in Kathmandu tarmac, provided an avenue could be found for them to bring their cadre along. Should the Maoists come overground, it is possible that they will find greater success than they would otherwise with years fighting in the bush. The evolution of political parties has been such over the years that there is actually a place ready for them in the political mainstream with the CPN-UML having moved towards the centre of the spectrum. It is clear that there is a sizeable constituency that would by now vote for the Maoists if they were to come above ground. After all, from a leftist faction on the extremist fringe they have managed to come centre-stage in five quick years, and now would perhaps be the time for them to cash in on their countrywide power and seek above-ground legitimacy via the ballot box. "They would not have done as much within such a short time if they had gone through normal political processes," Shridhar Khatri, professor of political science at Tribhuvan University, told the weekly Nepali Times. "They took the high-risk, quick rewards road." Unlike the CPN (UML) in 1990 with most of its leaders having just surfaced in the public arena (and hence having had to bring in leaders from the 1950s era to provide public legitimacy), the Maoists would face no such problem. In terms of perception, leaders like Prachanda and Baburam Bhattarai already occupy the political mainstream. They talk regularly to the people through the pages of the national dailies besides two of their 'in-house' weeklies and a number of magazines published by their proxies. Reactions to government moves are instantaneous, like one would expect from any regular political party, and the press has generally proved generous in granting a forum to the Maoists. It is almost as if the very fact that the Maoists are so close to the surface give the lie to their ideological rigidity, and indicates their desire to come to play politics in the centre of power. Says Hari Rokka, "The past has shown that in Nepal, the radicals have ultimately ended up being the mainstream in the communist movement. After the first split in 1963, Pushpa Lal's faction became the mainstream. Next it was the Fourth Conference, and then the Marxist-Leninists. Maybe it is now the turn of the Maoists." The main difference, of course, is that the Maoists have picked up arms and ammassed a power base that none of the earlier groups managed. It is also open to conjecture whether it is long-term planning that has led the Maoist strategists to spare Kathmandu Valley in their attacks thus far. They have shown their capability to hit the capital, certainly, by carrying out small token bombings, but they have thus far preferred not to target the real weilders of power within that state. While it can be argued that this is more because such action could lead to an instant unanimity in the capital for forceful retaliation through army, armed police or whatever, it could just as easily be seen as keeping the door itself clean of blood in case of a transition towards above-ground power-sharing. Recent developments do provide some hope that the Maoists of Nepal are seeking a less bloody solution. Why would, otherwise, Prachanda and Baburam Bhattarai be together meeting up with leaders of various left parties as well as King Birendra's unofficial representative in Parliament over the course of April 2001? (Clearly, the two are about in Kathmandu Valley, but such is the uniquely Nepali nature of the insurgency situation that even if it were possible, the authorities would most likely not want them nabbed for the political fallout it would have.) If Prachanda and Baburam Bhattarai were to want to make a 'safe landing' in the field of above-ground politics, they would have to overcome two obstacles. The first is simply how they would explain to their charged-up young followers the compromises they would have to make with the political establishment. The second is reconciling their demands with the present constitutional dispensation. The Maoist proposal of an interim government or of a new constitution cannot be met within the existing constitution. Narahari Acharya of the Nepali Congress points out, "Unlike before 1990, when the constitution was whatever the king wanted, according to the present constitution the Nepali Congress alone cannot even amend it, let alone make a new constitution." It is possible that an extra-constitutional path as demanded by the Maoists would be charted only if the Maoists were to want to destabilise the entire country with all out People's War. There is no doubt that the Maoists would even be willing to take this path if they had the men and material. However, one would hope that the leadership would consider the price in death and mayhem too high a price, and accept a 'lesser' solution for the sake of the life of the people. It will be up to the Maoists and the present polity to figure out what compromises can be made to bring the matter to a close, and relegate the violent People's War to a thing of the past. If it requires constitutional amendment, like the left parties have been demanding vociferously, it can only come about if they join hands with the Nepali Congress. Whatever the case, it would seem that the Maoists have to be provided an honourable way out if they so desire. But they first have to have the desire to talk, which seems to wax and wane according to the 'victories' they are able to achieve on the field. Radha Krishna Mainali was one of the leaders of the Jhapa Movement. Today, he is a gentrified Naxalite and part of the mainstream left who has also served as minister. He says, "Revolutions have never succeeded in a democracy. In a democracy, there are just too many ways to vent your grievances; violence is not the only one." Perhaps, that is the kind of advice the Maoists are missing. And perhaps this word from a one-time militant would help convince the Maoist leadership and cadre that Nepal is too precious a country to be converted into a series of killing terraces. To unsubscribe from this group, send an email to: [EMAIL PROTECTED] Your use of Yahoo! Groups is subject to http://docs.yahoo.com/info/terms/
