Government Responds to Criticism with Whataboutism, Eroding Public Trust

Today, when a public issue arises, the tendency to evade it by asking counter-questions instead of responding with facts and responsibility has increased. Whether it is the Prime Minister's statement on the border dispute in parliament, the 'BYD' tax evasion case involving the Finance Minister, or the Home Minister's unusual wealth case, which is said to have been 'cleansed by a washing machine,' this trend is visible in all of them.

In political science, this is called 'whataboutism.' Its simple meaning is to deflect the issue by pointing out the fault of the other party instead of directly answering the question or criticism raised against oneself, that is, instead of answering the question 'What did we do?' by posing the counter-question 'What did they do?' is whataboutism.

The current scenario in Nepal has become a witness to an interesting but worrying paradox. On one hand, the country has a numerically strong government. There is a clear majority in parliament, and the government does not lack the necessary arithmetic to advance its agenda. But on the other hand, public trust in this very government has started to appear relatively weak. The reason is not the government's strength, but the questions being raised about its moral basis.

In a democracy, the strength of a government is not determined solely by the numbers in parliament, control over ministries, or the size of the ruling coalition. The real strength of a government is determined by how accountable it behaves towards the public, how respectfully it accepts criticism, and how ready it is to admit its shortcomings and improve. Unfortunately, these qualities are gradually becoming rare in Nepal's current political culture. Many examples of this can be seen.

But the question arises, if you behave like them, why would the public choose you? It is with the expectation that you are different, accountable, and will change the old wrong political culture that the public has trusted you.

According to political analysts, this is not a new trend. During the Cold War, when Western countries criticized the Soviet Union for human rights violations, it would counter-question, 'What about racial discrimination in America?' This strategy of diverting the debate by showing the weaknesses of others without answering the main question was widely used. Later, this style was named 'whataboutism.' Nepal is not immune to this. Rather, it is felt that this trend has become increasingly institutionalized in recent times.

If a minister is accused of irregularities, what should be the expected response? What is the truth of the allegation? How far has the investigation progressed? Will action be taken if found guilty? Clear, fact-based, and responsible answers to such questions should come. But in practice, ministers' reactions are often - 'Shall I show you?', 'I will open the file', 'I will expose it', 'Have you forgotten the corruption of the previous government?', 'Why don't you speak about the scandals of leaders of so-and-so party?', 'Don't we know what they did when they were in power?'

But the question arises, if you behave like them, why would the public choose you? It is with the expectation that you are different, accountable, and will change the old wrong political culture that the public has trusted you. It is truly surprising to resort to counter-questions and deflection instead of answering allegations with facts.

Such counter-questions do not delve into the substance of the allegations; rather, they are merely attempts to evade accountability and divert the debate. This raises a serious question: are we looking for solutions to the problem or just comparing blame?

If a person or institution was wrong in the past, they should be investigated and punished. But that does not absolve anyone from answering the questions raised in the present. In a democracy, the argument 'they were also wrong' can never be proof that 'we are right.'

In fact, the biggest problem with whataboutism is that it obscures the truth. It does not prove the guilty innocent, but it shifts the focus of blame elsewhere. As a result, the public does not get answers, only excuses.

What is even more worrying is that both the ruling party and the opposition are now adopting this style as needed. The ruling party remembers the past when in power, and criticizes the present when in opposition. When the opposition comes to power, the same behavior is repeated. The actors change, but the trend does not.

• What is the result of this?

First, public debate gets focused on accusations and counter-accusations, not facts. Second, real accountability starts to disappear. Because when every question is answered by another question, no issue reaches a conclusion. Third, public disillusionment grows. When everyone just blames each other and no one takes responsibility, public trust in the political system weakens.

A strong government is one that can face tough questions, admit mistakes, conduct impartial investigations even into its own people, and view criticism as an opportunity for improvement, not as enmity.

Another irony seen in Nepal today is that the measure of morality has also started to be based on political convenience. When one's own people are involved, legal procedures, investigations, and evidence are discussed. When the opposition is involved, demands for morality and resignation are immediately raised. While the same standard of morality should apply to everyone, it has become an object that changes according to party, faction, and interest.

This is why the main crisis of the present time is not just political instability, but also the lack of moral leadership. The government has numbers, power, and resources. But what the public seeks is more than these: moral credibility. What citizens want to hear is not 'they also did it,' but 'what we did and what we are doing now.'

The identity of a strong government is not in its ability to silence critics. A strong government is one that can face tough questions, admit mistakes, conduct impartial investigations even into its own people, and view criticism as an opportunity for improvement, not as enmity.

In a democracy, it is the opposition's job to raise questions, and the government's job to answer them. But when questions start being answered by questions, democracy begins to run on excuses, not dialogue.

The foundation of democracy is established not by 'their fault,' but by 'our responsibility.' As long as the answer to the question 'What are you doing?' is limited to the counter-question 'What did they do?', the moral foundation of democracy will remain weak, no matter how strong the government is.