By Our Reporter
The collapse of the alliance between Dhawal Shumsher Rana and Durga Prasai goes beyond a personal falling out between two pro monarchy leaders. It exposes a deeper weakness within Nepal’s conservative political camp. Many of these forces agree on what they oppose, but once they have to decide who will lead, how power will be shared and how a party should function, their unity quickly comes under strain.
Rana and Prasai had enough in common to make their June agreement look promising. Both supported the restoration of the monarchy, a Hindu state and opposition to foreign interference. They also sought to give political voice to people who feel ignored by the established parties. On paper, they appeared to have the ingredients for a strong political alliance.
But shared slogans could not bridge their differences.
The immediate problem was leadership. Prasai wanted authority that went beyond the normal role of a party chairman or office bearer. His reported demand for a role similar to Iran’s supreme leader model raised the most basic question of all: who would actually run the party!
Rana and the leaders around him appear to have realised that such an arrangement would be difficult to reconcile with Nepal’s constitutional and political system. A party cannot easily function with one individual exercising authority above its statute and central committee. Even if such a model could attract support in the beginning, it would raise serious questions about internal democracy and the way the party would operate.
Beneath the leadership dispute, however, lay a deeper clash of political styles. Prasai has built his influence through populist mobilisation, aggressive rhetoric and direct appeals to people angry with banks, cooperatives, microfinance institutions, political parties and the state. He thrives outside the traditional party structure and has shown an ability to turn public frustration into political energy.
Rana comes from a very different background. Having spent years inside an established political party, he understands the importance of organisation, party committees, cadres, candidates and electoral machinery. His approach is more institutional and structured.
That difference might not have been fatal if the two sides had managed to establish a clear division of responsibilities. Rana could have taken charge of the organisation while Prasai became the movement’s public face. But once the disagreement shifted to the question of who would have the final say, the arrangement began to unravel.
The personal attacks that followed made matters worse. Prasai’s accusations against Rana over his commitment to the monarchy and his remarks concerning the palace massacre, along with his references to the CIA, turned a political disagreement into a question of trust. Once political partners begin accusing each other of betraying the very cause that brought them together, repairing the relationship becomes much harder.
That brings us to the larger question: why has the Rastriya Prajatantra Party repeatedly failed to keep such forces within its fold?
The RPP already occupies the political space that Rana and Prasai are trying to build around. It advocates monarchy, a Hindu state and a conservative political identity. In theory, people with similar views should find it easier to work together under one banner. Yet the party has struggled to convert that ideological base into a broad and cohesive political force.
Internal rivalry is part of the problem. The RPP has faced repeated disputes over leadership, organisational control and political direction. Rana’s departure reportedly reflected his dissatisfaction with party chairman Rajendra Lingden’s working style and the delays in holding the general convention. When experienced leaders leave because they feel pushed aside, it points to more than a personal dispute. It suggests weaknesses in the party’s internal management.
The RPP also has a difficult balancing act. It needs to protect its traditional monarchist base while appealing to younger voters and people who have lost faith in established parties. Prasai speaks to a more confrontational and populist constituency. Rana represents a more conventional electoral and organisational approach. Bringing both groups together requires a level of flexibility that the party has not always demonstrated.
The collapse of the Rana-Prasai alliance should therefore concern the RPP as much as the two leaders themselves. Nepal’s conservative forces have shown that they can come together around common grievances. The real test begins when they have to divide positions, settle leadership questions, control party organisations and decide who gets election tickets.
Rana is now trying to turn monarchist sentiment into an organised political force through the Jai Nepal Party. Prasai is preparing to build his own political vehicle around public anger and the grievances of microfinance, cooperative and loan sharking victims.
Both could attract support. But splitting the same political constituency could also weaken the broader movement they hoped to strengthen.
For the RPP, the lesson is straightforward. If it cannot accommodate competing leaders, younger voters and emerging populist forces within a credible internal structure, its political space will continue to produce new parties and rival leaders.
The problem may not be a lack of support for the monarchy or conservative politics. The bigger problem may be the inability to turn that support into a single, credible and functioning political home.
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