KIRAN PANDAY |
If all goes smoothly, we will have a budget today, whether or not the integration numbers are fixed or a 'real' government is formed. Don't expect any more progress on either of these last two until the dust settles from the Maoist plenum that begins 21 November.
As far as our politicians are concerned, this is progress enough. The public, and the business community in particular, will heave a sigh of relief, and with a last brace of curses thrown in the direction of politicians in general, will get back to worrying about other things. Politicians will mouth platitudes about how the public interest was at the heart of their compromises, looking smug, as if to say, See, we sorted it all out. Budget bhaye bhaihalyo ni, jaile bhaye pani bhayena? (as long as you get a budget, does it matter when you get it?)
If it wasn't clear to everyone by now, it's doubly clear that the modus operandi in Nepali politics is to negotiate ad nauseam, and give the impression that one is really trying very hard, without actually being flexible until other factors force one's hand. In this case, the factor is impending economic paralysis (more cynically, an imminent delay in salaries to CA members and Maoist combatants). Doing so allows the negotiators to hold out for concessions as long as is feasible.
Holding out for concessions when so much is at stake may seem like standard operating procedure anywhere in the world. But the problem in Nepal is that the sense of proportion is all wrong. We're talking about the national budget here. While 'holding the nation to hostage' as far as the political impasse is concerned is a grave enough matter, the consequences of doing so by delaying the budget and having to make do with a 'special' budget are altogether more immediate.
For some, it's a minor inconvenience, more moral than anything else, if the salary's a week late. For others, it's a matter of survival. For many, it's somewhere in between, but the cumulative costs of missed investments and knock-on effects can be far-reaching.
Take the delay in issuing tickets for athletes competing in the Asian Games, which was primarily the result of a lack of funds. Mental and physical trauma for the athletes could well have cost us medals, never mind the national humiliation. The effect on the sporting fraternity is lasting. Further, the National Sports Council borrowed from the Cricketing Association of Nepal, which was meant to use the money in question for infrastructural development.
These funds have now been expended elsewhere. Even if the Council pays back the loan, it will be after some delay. So the development of a sport in which Nepal has a serious chance of excelling internationally has been delayed, too.
Take Nepal Tourism Year, which is almost upon us. There may be valid criticisms of the way preparations have been handled, but you can be sure that many such preparations have been delayed or curtailed because of the budgetary crisis. There will not be enough time to make up for all these delays in time for 2011, even if you flood the tourism sector with cash now.
These are a couple of obvious, publicised, examples. Any individual who wasn't able to invest in something that matters to his or her future, as a direct or indirect result of the budgetary debacle, has already incurred a loss that is not necessarily erased simply if the budget is passed today. Multiply this by the population of Nepal, and you get an idea of the scale.
This is how seriously our leaders should be taking the budget. The budget, if they need to be reminded, is the sum total of expenditure of the state across all sectors of the economy. It affects every single Nepali, because all of us have to buy and sell products in the market, whatever they may be. Arguably, this is more important than who is in government. Holding the budget at bay, once more, is akin to suffocating the patient while operating on the rest of the body. It's nothing short of criminal.
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