- Home Minister Sudhan Gurung faced backlash for telling Gorkha constituents to "take back your vote" after they questioned a missing laboratory budget.
- The incident underscores the gap between specific election promises and the administrative delays inherent in government budgeting and project implementation.
- The confrontation reignited discussions about "right to recall" laws, a core principle of the Rastriya Swatantra Party's platform for political accountability.
- Observers argue that voters demand transparency and honest communication about project progress rather than dismissive responses from elected representatives.
Kathmandu, Nepal: It started with a question about a laboratory and ended up raising a much bigger question about democracy: once voters elect a representative, how much power do they have to hold that person accountable before the next election?
The question emerged during Home Minister and Gorkha-1 lawmaker Sudhan Gurung’s recent interaction with residents of Shahid Lakhan Rural Municipality–9 in Gorkha. Gurung was there as part of his programme to meet constituents regularly when local residents confronted him about a promise made during the election—to provide a budget for a laboratory in the area.
The residents wanted to know a simple thing: if the laboratory had been promised during the election, why was the money not included in the budget?
Gurung responded that it was too early to expect major changes. The government had only recently begun implementing its first budget, he said, and development projects could not be completed overnight. There were many demands from different parts of the country, he explained, and projects had to be selected according to priority.
At one point, however, the conversation took a sharper turn. Gurung said, “I cannot transform everything in four months. Take back your vote.”
Some people at the gathering laughed at the remark. But after a video of the exchange spread on social media, the words began to attract much wider attention.
One participant reportedly told the minister that such a statement should have been made before the election, not after voters had already given him their support. Gurung replied that people who did not trust him should not have voted for him and again asked constituents to give him five years to judge his performance.
Behind the exchange is a very familiar experience for voters. During elections, promises are often specific and immediate: a road will be built, a hospital will be upgraded, drinking water will reach a settlement, a school will receive support or a health facility will be established. Once the election is over, however, the realities of government begin—limited budgets, competing priorities, administrative procedures and delays.
For residents of a rural constituency, those realities can feel very different from the promises made during an election campaign.
A laboratory, for example, may appear to government officials as one item among hundreds of projects competing for limited funds. For a local resident who has to travel elsewhere for basic medical tests, however, it can mean hours of travel, additional expense and difficulty accessing healthcare.
That is why the disagreement in Gorkha cannot simply be dismissed as impatience.
At the same time, it would also be unfair to expect a minister to fulfil every election commitment within four months. Major public projects require planning, funding, approval, procurement and implementation. Some promises may take years to complete.
The real issue, therefore, may not be whether the laboratory has already been built.
It is whether voters have been given a clear answer about what happened to the promise.
If the project could not be included in the current budget, why not? Has it been proposed for a future budget? Is there a funding problem? Has the ministry asked the local government for additional information? What is the expected timeline?
For voters, answers to those questions can be almost as important as immediate construction.
This is where the Gorkha incident moves beyond one laboratory and enters the wider debate over political accountability.
The Rastriya Swatantra Party, to which Gurung belongs, rose in large part from public frustration with Nepal’s traditional political culture. The party presented itself as an alternative to established political forces and promised greater transparency, responsiveness and accountability.
That history means RSP leaders are likely to face particularly close scrutiny now that the party is in government.
Many of the people who supported the party were not simply looking for new faces in politics. They were hoping for a different relationship between politicians and citizens—one in which elected representatives would listen to people, explain their decisions and accept responsibility when things did not go as promised.
That expectation makes Gurung’s words more politically sensitive.
The remark has also brought the party’s idea of the “right to recall” back into public discussion. The RSP’s statute includes a provision allowing party members to seek the recall of elected representatives under rules set by the party. Party chairman Rabi Lamichhane has also spoken publicly about the provision and the need for elected representatives to remain accountable.
But there is an important difference between an internal party recall mechanism and a legal right that allows ordinary voters to remove an elected representative before the end of the representative’s term.
Nepal currently does not have a general constitutional system under which voters can simply recall their federal lawmaker because they have lost confidence in that person. Representatives are elected for fixed terms, and voters generally have to wait for the next election to make their final judgment at the ballot box.
That is why international experience with recall is worth examining.
Several countries and jurisdictions have introduced recall mechanisms, but they have done so in very different ways. In the United States, recall exists at state and local levels in many jurisdictions. California has one of the best-known systems, under which voters can initiate a recall of state officials by collecting the required number of signatures. The system became internationally famous in 2003 when California Governor Gray Davis was recalled and Arnold Schwarzenegger was elected to replace him.
Canada also provides an example much closer to Nepal’s parliamentary tradition. In British Columbia, voters can initiate a recall petition against a Member of the Legislative Assembly. But the process is deliberately difficult. A recall application cannot be made until 18 months after an MLA is elected, and the petition must obtain signatures from more than 40 percent of registered voters in the constituency before the process can move forward.
The idea behind such restrictions is simple: recall should provide voters with a serious democratic safeguard without allowing every temporary disagreement to become a political crisis.
Other countries have gone further. Venezuela, for example, has constitutional provisions allowing recall referendums involving elected officials, including the president. Countries such as Ecuador and Peru have also used recall mechanisms in different forms.
The international experience shows that recall is neither a magic solution nor an inherently dangerous idea. Much depends on how it is designed.
Supporters see recall as a way to remind politicians that winning an election does not mean receiving a blank cheque. A representative who knows that voters can initiate a recall may have a stronger incentive to remain connected with constituents throughout the term.
Critics, however, worry that recall could make elected governments unstable. Politicians sometimes have to make unpopular decisions. If every unpopular decision could immediately trigger a recall campaign, representatives might become more concerned about short-term popularity than long-term public interest.
There is also the possibility of recall being used by political parties, wealthy interest groups or organised campaigns to overturn an election result before the scheduled election.
That is why recall systems generally require safeguards such as minimum waiting periods, large numbers of signatures, independent verification and restrictions on repeated attempts.
If Nepal ever decides to introduce such a mechanism, these questions would need to be carefully considered.
Who should be allowed to initiate a recall? Should it apply only to federal lawmakers, or also to provincial and local representatives? How many voters should be required to support a petition? Should there be a waiting period after an election? How often should a recall attempt be allowed? Who should administer the process? And what happens if the recall succeeds?
These are constitutional questions, not simply party questions.
For the RSP, the Gorkha episode may therefore prove to be an important test of its own political philosophy.
Gurung is asking voters for five years.
There is nothing unusual about that request. An elected government needs time to implement its policies and fulfil its commitments. But voters may reasonably respond that five years should not mean five years without explanation.
They may be willing to wait for a road to be completed, a hospital to be upgraded or a laboratory to be established. What they are less likely to accept is being asked to wait without knowing what is happening.
That is perhaps the most important lesson from the Gorkha exchange.
People do not always expect instant results. Often, they simply want to know that the promise they believed in has not been forgotten.
Social media has made that expectation even stronger. A promise made during an election campaign can now be recorded and shared within seconds. Politicians can no longer assume that campaign statements will disappear after election day. Voters can return to old videos, compare promises with budgets and ask why commitments have changed.
For elected representatives, this means accountability is becoming a continuous process.
The Gorkha laboratory may eventually receive funding. Gurung may also have several years to demonstrate whether his broader political promises can be delivered. But the conversation that began over that laboratory has already raised a question that extends well beyond Gorkha.
If voters give politicians five years to govern, what should politicians give voters in return?
The answer cannot simply be patience.
It must also include communication, transparency and accountability.
For the RSP, a party that built much of its appeal on the promise of changing Nepal’s political culture, that may be the real test ahead. The challenge is not only to deliver results, but to show voters that the relationship between an elected representative and the people does not end when the ballot box closes.
Gurung may be asking voters to wait five years.
But the people of Gorkha have reminded him that a five-year mandate begins with a promise—and that promise continues to belong to the voters who gave him their vote.
