Narottam Regmi

Kathmandu:

Since the seventies, Nepal had been experimental ground for the concept of ‘small is beautiful’ by adapting relevant micro-hydel technology to suit the geography and the power needs of the people dispersed in the hills. Though many of the trials came out as a success, the government, however, lately has been quite unhappy with that concept and has been trying its hand at bigger hydel power projects that many funding agencies have also lent their support to. The existing mechanism, therefore, has not fully catered to the needs of the people and lot more could be done to make these projects a greater success. The book reads like any scientific discourse is meant to be: discreet, objective, academic. It takes the reader through the labyrinth of Nepal’s development history, trends, technology adapted in micro-hydel projects, their prototypes, rural politics and its dynamics, community participation, stakeholders, project financers and the impact of the ongoing insurgency on these smaller hydroprojects. This makes the reading exercise not so much a pleasure experience. Each part of the argument is often linked to another part of the book with references inundating the pages.

But if any beginner is looking for an overall picture of what makes Nepal’s hydropower landscape, than this is a must pick. Or for that matter, even for the academic and the very much initiated, references and history of hydropower development in the country will prove valuable. Gleaned through years of painstaking research, the book examines the agents and policy structure besides the models and institutions that have shaped the water and power sector in Nepal. For example, the first legislation that mentioned control of water resources was the Muluki Ain, civil code of 1854. That was also when the State’s control of water resources, which until then was largely undefined, was finally consolidated, at least on paper.

It nevertheless takes the reader through the evolution of electricity supply right since the Pharping plant, first of its kind, built in 1911. It is quite an enlightenment that farmers had then opposed the idea when the water they used for irrigation and other needs was diverted for this purpose. The first users of electricity began paying for the services provided from that plant in 1912. No wonder that like any other modern amenities of the day, the electricity from that plant was also limited only to the ruling Rana family, their extended kin and elite courtiers. Even during that time, favouritism had already gathered stilt roots: some of those beneficiaries were exempt from tariff. Outside Kathmandu, the first commercial supply began in 1940 in Biratnagar. Because the first the Pharping and later the Panauti project saw considerable opposition from locals for using the water they used for irrigation, the first Canal and Electricity Act 1961 came into effect pluralising the concept of managing of both electricity generation and irrigation canals hand in hand. Then followed an avalanche of legislation. But the first alignment of entire hydropower structure, separate from irrigation, came into effect only in 1984 when the Nepal Electricity Authority (NEA) Act paved way for the establishment of the NEA, the national power utility. But as legislative hurdles were being streamlined, all kinds of experiments were underway: big, medium and small hydropower enterprises in different places from time to time. However, it was only after 1992 that hydropower prominently “re-emerged in policy documents and other action plans.”

Tardiness, lethargy and bureaucracy aside, the process involved in the electrification of rural area has been costly and far from effective due to several reasons, including the use of an urban and costly approach. Though the geopolitical climate has much to do with the pace of development, that rural electrification process began as late as the 1960s speaks volumes about the delay in transferring the technology to the villages.

Submitted as a PhD thesis defended at Wageningen University, the Netherlands, the book delves deep into the Nepali culture, history, the Maoist movement and how it all started. And like a few voices now scrambling for attention, rural poverty and economic deprivation was only a catalyst in furthering the Maoist rebellion that had actually conceptualised as far back as 1974. Hardened commissars were waiting for inevitable party-rift and suitable political climate before announcing an armed rebellion in February 13, 1996. The rest of the book dwells on case studies and the intricate models and technologies, only relevant for hydropower engineers and academics. But it is one of a kind that beautifully examines the democratic forces at work at the local level and how their opinions and actions determine the ultimate success of the micro-hydels. In fact, these factors are also the ones that have shaped a lot of other development projects. Barring the intricacies, the rest of it makes sense to even the casual readers.

Democratising Micro-Hydel: Structures, Systems and Agents in Adaptive Technology in the Hills of Nepal, by Amreeta Regmi, Orient Longman, price: IRs 350