Views of a Nepali Economist

I am Vikas

By: Mukesh Khanal

I read Gyanu Adhikari’s opinion piece titled “Donor darlings” on January 29 in The Kathmandu Post. While it hints at a possible disconnect between donor and recipient mindsets and philosophies, there are a number of issues on which I earnestly disagree. I am one of many “Vikas” working in one of many INGOs in Nepal. I was educated in the west; returned after completing my studies; worked for an NGO for a year and half; and left that NGO for a job with an INGO where I have been working for over a year now. But, that is where my similarities with the fictional “Vikas” end.

The path to my elite-ness is somewhat different than the one prescribed by “Donor darlings”. My parents could not afford to send me to the best schools in Kathmandu due to their limited income as public school teachers. Nevertheless, I did well in an English medium school in Biratnagar, and did alright in my ISc in Dhulikhel. When I decided to go west for my higher studies, my parents emptied their retirement savings and sold the only piece of land they’d ever owned (bought with their savings from over 15 years of public service). Additionally, they took loans from friends and families at exorbitant rates because they had no collateral for taking out bank loans. While studying in the west, I worked illegally washing dishes, mopping floors, cleanings toilets, and flipping burgers to pay for my accommodation and tuition fees. I understand that not many Nepali students get the opportunity to study in the west. However, the mere fact that I did tells only part of the story of how I got there and nothing more.

Upon completing my Master’s in economics, I received two offers: a fully-sponsored PhD, and a job at a multinational in Singapore. After some personal reflections, I decided to reject both and returned to Nepal, fully aware of the opportunities in terms of remuneration and lifestyle that I had given up.

I never considered myself cut out for public service. Given my interests in research and academics, and given my impression of Nepali bureaucracy, I knew I wouldn’t survive in public service. Even if I did want to enter public service, there aren’t enough opportunities there as is evidenced by thousands of applications for a handful of advertised positions. And, private sector job growth is mostly in the financial sector, in which I was unenthusiastic to work. I did not consider becoming an entrepreneur—as some returnees have—because I do not believe I have the pedigree, resources and ideas to pursue that lifestyle. I did elect to teach—part time—because it is a medium for me to introduce the type of pedagogical approach I had appreciated during my college days in the west.

In the end, I decided to join a local non-governmental research organization. I do not know if that was at the expense of an “Anju” who also had a Master’s degree from a Nepali university. My decision to join this particular organization was based on their engagement in economic and policy research that contribute to the overall development of the country. I learnt that most research in Nepal—academic or social—are donor funded. I realized that this was not due to our lack of resources but due to our collective choice to be engaged in philanthropy for religious purposes and not for secular pursuit of knowledge. I agree, for various reasons, that donor funding is not the ideal way to pursue research, but our choices are limited until we are able to fund ourselves.    

“Donor darlings” rightly points to perhaps the lack of accountability among Nepali NGOs as well as donor agencies. Of course, donors may have their own agendas when they spend millions of dollars in Nepal’s development activities. At times, I struggle to reconcile between the amount of money that is poured into Nepal in the name of development and actual outcomes in terms of actual development. Personal doubts aside, fact of the matter is, whether we like it or not, we have made a conscious decision to function with foreign assistance. Also, we have to realize that primary accountability of donor agencies is to their own taxpayers, not ours. The best we can do is to put pressure on Nepal government to devise policies and plans to make donors accountable to Nepali people, too. Maybe we need to work more on that instead of criticizing the entire donor community.

I know that many people question the intentions of donor-funded development assistance, and many more question the ethical and moral boundaries of donor interventions and activities. However, interventions and activities are constantly changed, tweaked and even rejected based on the boundaries of operational philosophies. Donors, NGOs, INGOs, and those who work in development are frequently disappointed when they see their efforts bringing very little change. But, that little change could be a consequence of poor program design and implementation, and not necessarily the result of “evil” donor policies. 

The premise of “Donor darlings” op-ed piece fairly represents the emotions of some towards the development sector and the people that are part of it. But, it is laden with far-fetched assumptions, over-arching generalization, and simply a failure to take into perspective the reality of development and development sector in Nepal. It is an opinion piece and reads like one. A more in-depth analysis of political and socio-economic conditions of Nepal that have led to the current situation, and perhaps some constructive criticism, would help engage everybody in seeking a way out of this quagmire than simply rant out preconceived opinions to get approval from fellow choir members.