KATHMANDU, Feb 27: There is an old story about two men locked in a heated debate. What began as a calm exchange of ideas slowly turned into a battle of egos. Voices grew louder, tempers flared, and eventually one of them struck the other — a man known in the community as a “gentleman.”
Watching the scene unfold, a bystander muttered, “Look, two fools are fighting.”
At first, the remark sounds misplaced. After all, only one man raised his hand. But the deeper message lingers: a true gentleman is not just someone who is right, but someone who knows when to step away. Sometimes winning is not about overpowering the other person; sometimes it is about refusing to descend into the fight at all.
That lesson, however, seems increasingly absent from Nepal’s political arena.
As elections approach, political speeches are becoming sharper, louder and more personal. Accusations and counter-accusations dominate public rallies. Instead of competing over ideas, leaders appear locked in a contest of who can belittle whom more effectively. In the process, the stature of politics itself seems to be shrinking.
“In politics, the tendency to demean one another has increased rather than to show mutual respect,” says sociologist Krishna Bhattachan. “There is a widespread illusion that one becomes bigger by making others look small. This has pushed society toward a culture of insults.”
Love and rural life
According to Bhattachan, Nepali society often falls into a dangerous binary mindset: those we like are elevated to the status of gods; those we dislike are painted as demons. “There is even a section of people who applaud when ‘their own’ fall into a pit because of arrogance,” he says. “That section is dangerous for both leaders and society.”
The campaign trail offers plenty of examples. Leaders such as KP Sharma Oli, Balendra Shah, Gagan Thapa, Amaresh Kumar Singh and Rabi Lamichhane have all delivered pointed remarks against rivals. Oli has labeled opponents “anarchic” and “inexperienced.” Shah has attacked traditional parties, accusing them of damaging the system and obstructing development. Lamichhane has dismissed Parliament and ruling coalitions as a continuation of the “same old game,” while Singh has criticized older party leadership as morally bankrupt.
Thapa has attempted to focus on legal reforms and structural change, yet even he has described opponents as driven by “disorganized thinking” and “emotional politics.” The tone, across the board, has grown more confrontational.
The result is that policy debates are fading into the background. Development plans, economic strategies, education reform, and healthcare systems — these issues rarely trend on social media. Instead, viral clips capture fiery one-liners and personal jabs. “They don’t seem mindful of what they are saying. Word choices are beginning to appear filthy,” says social consultant Dr Namrata Pandey. “There is less humility and more ego.”
The language leaders use, she adds, inevitably filters down into society. Supporters echo the aggression they hear from the stage. Online spaces become battlegrounds. Even family members of political figures are dragged into ridicule and trolling. What once might have been satire has hardened into open insult.
Ordinary citizens are growing uneasy. “It hurts when those who claim to work for development resort to insults,” says Deepak Pudasaini of Thali. “The new generation is beginning to see more frustration than hope.”
For many voters, the disappointment lies not just in harsh language but in what it replaces. Instead of serious conversations about unemployment, inflation, public services or corruption, political discourse often revolves around personality clashes and past grudges. “Instead of pointing out others’ faults, leaders should examine their own weaknesses,” says Dr Tikaram Gautam. “But they do not appear ready to admit their shortcomings.”
What is more troubling is that hostility is no longer confined to rival parties. Internal disputes are spilling into public view. Within the Nepali Congress, factional tensions simmer openly. In CPN-UML, criticism of party leadership surfaces in speeches and interviews. Even newer parties wrestle with questions about leadership style and internal democracy. The culture of insult has begun to erode unity from within as well as across party lines.
Democracy, at its heart, depends on dialogue. Disagreement is natural — even healthy. But when disagreement mutates into humiliation, the democratic spirit weakens. Political instability can follow. The example of neighboring countries, where heated rhetoric has escalated into physical altercations, serves as a cautionary tale.
Amid this charged environment, one intriguing dynamic stands out. Between Balendra Shah and Gagan Thapa — both widely seen as faces of a “new generation” — direct attacks remain relatively restrained. Disagreements exist, certainly. Shah has criticized the pace of development and the failures of traditional parties. Thapa has countered by emphasizing legal reform and institutional processes. Yet neither has launched sustained personal attacks against the other.
At a rally in Dhangadhi, Shah declared that roads delayed for decades must now be completed quickly, even suggesting drastic measures to ensure contractors deliver. The remark drew criticism for sounding excessive. In response, Thapa argued that threatening individuals would not solve systemic delays, pointing instead to the need to amend dozens of laws.
Their exchanges have been pointed but measured. Analysts describe this as “cautious competition.” A direct clash between them, both projecting reformist images, could undermine the broader narrative of generational change they symbolize. Silence, in this context, may be strategic — but it also hints at the possibility of a different political tone.
Bhattachan views this restraint as a hopeful sign. “Restrained competition is a positive sign of democratic practice,” he says. “It elevates the overall standard of politics.”
The question, then, is whether that tone can spread.
As election day draws nearer, voters face more than a choice of candidates. They face a choice of political culture. Will leaders continue to chase applause through insult? Or will they rediscover the power of dignified disagreement?
The old story of the two men fighting still resonates. In the end, the real victory may belong not to the one who strikes harder, but to the one who chooses not to strike at all.
