PM Balen's first six months reveal the tension between a powerful mandate and the institutional restraints of parliamentary government
Balendra "Balen" Shah's first six months in office have been marked by a steady consolidation of authority, contraction of cabinet space, and a governing style that increasingly sidelines institutional norms. His rise was unconventional and his mandate emphatic, but his methods now raise structural concerns that extend beyond personality and touch the core of Nepal's parliamentary functioning.
Shah entered national politics as an outsider. His appeal rested on disruption. GenG voters embraced him as a break from the old order, and his party secured a decisive majority. Expectations were high. The first months have shown the limits of charisma when confronted with the demands of statecraft, and the limits of unilateralism when confronted with the architecture of a parliamentary democracy.
The anticorruption drive began immediately. Arrests followed. Investigations were reopened. Files moved quickly. Labour Minister Deepak Kumar Shah was dismissed on corruption grounds. Home Minister Sudhan Gurung resigned after he got embroiled in a controversy. The actions were forceful, but they were also selective, and the pattern unsettled the bureaucracy. Critics saw vengeance; supporters saw resolve. The effect was institutional unease, with senior officials increasingly uncertain about whether decisions were driven by process or impulse.
A more serious trend has emerged. Power has moved inward, not outward. Shah has taken personal control of the Ministry of Defence, the Ministry of Industry, Commerce and Supplies, and the Ministry of Labour. These are core ministries, and in a parliamentary system they are meant to be dispersed to ensure collective responsibility. Under Shah, they are held by one office. The PMO has become the centre of all executive movement. Ministers complain privately that files bypass them, decisions arrive fully formed, and policy announcements are made without consultation. The cabinet has been reduced to a formality, with deliberation thinning and autonomy contracting.
Opposition parties and constitutional analysts see a clear deflection of parliamentary accountability. The PMO issues directives that normally originate in ministries. Oversight mechanisms weaken. The governing structure increasingly resembles command rather than consultation.
The style is severe. The intent may be reform, but constitutional norms exist for a reason. Zero tolerance on corruption is desirable. Speed in administration is necessary. Yet neither objective justifies bypassing institutional checks. Efficiency cannot replace accountability. Centralisation cannot substitute for process. The risks are structural, not personal, and they accumulate quietly.
Shah's biggest challenge in these six months was the Bhotekoshi–Koshi flood, a catastrophic event that tested his administrative capacity more directly than any political controversy. The disaster caused significant loss of life and widespread devastation across multiple districts. Shah moved quickly to reach the affected zones, but the response machinery showed strain. Coordination between federal, provincial and local units was uneven. Relief distribution was slow in several pockets. The PMO issued directives directly to district officials, bypassing line ministries, which accelerated some actions but also created confusion about chains of command. Reconstruction planning lagged behind immediate relief, and the scale of damage-running into billions exposed the limits of centralised decisionmaking in a crisis that required broad institutional mobilisation. Shah's insistence on personal oversight ensured visibility but did not always ensure coherence, and the disaster revealed gaps in preparedness, interagency coordination and longterm resilience planning. The episode demonstrated that centralisation may deliver speed, but it does not automatically deliver capacity.
The confrontation with private financial institutions especially banks further exposed these limits. Action was taken against a major bank in a hurry over a banking decision. Thereafter the banks were ordered to transfer frozen and dormant funds into the government treasury. The directive was abrupt, and legal clarity was thin. Banks resisted. Lending tightened. Large loans stalled. Industrialists complained. Economists warned of contraction. Investor confidence weakened. The episode showed a government willing to act quickly but not always lawfully, and it demonstrated the consequences of unilateral decisions in a fragile economy that depends on predictable regulatory behaviour.
Diplomacy has not been immune to this pattern. Shah refused to meet the visiting Indian Foreign Secretary, apparently on grounds of "equistature," arguing that a foreign secretary should meet his counterpart and not the prime minister. The gesture was unusual. It signalled assertion. It also signalled miscalculation. In Kathmandu's diplomatic culture, prime ministers have routinely met senior Indian officials regardless of rank, recognising the practical realities of NepalIndia engagement. Shah's refusal broke with precedent and was interpreted in New Delhi as avoidable rigidity rather than principled protocol.
Shah has not visited India or China since taking office. This breaks longstanding practice. Nepali prime ministers traditionally begin foreign outreach with New Delhi and follow it with Beijing, or at times the opposite. Shah has done neither. Regional capitals have taken note. Preparations for a possible India visit exist, but nothing is official. The silence is deliberate. It is also costly, because early outreach to both neighbours is not symbolic but structural, forming the basis of Nepal's external stability.
His first international appearance came at the United Nations General Assembly. The optics were stark. Shah arrived in a black tunic, black Nepali cap and dark sunglasses. The attire was familiar at home but unconventional abroad. Reactions were mixed. The symbolism was clear: he would not conform. The speech itself was brief and clinical. Nepal was still reeling from the Bhotekoshi–Koshi floods. Shah demanded climate justice, arguing that a country responsible for a negligible share of global emissions should not be condemned to perpetual reconstruction. He called for a Himalayan Climate Resilience Mechanism involving Nepal, India and China, focused on satellite data sharing, glaciallake monitoring and coordinated earlywarning systems. The message was firm. The delivery was uncompromising.
At home, reconstruction has been slow. Investor confidence remains weak. Employment generation has not accelerated. The economic agenda is stalled. The administrative machinery is strained. Six months is a short period, but it is long enough to reveal governing habits. Shah's style is forceful, centralised, impatient with procedure and intolerant of dissent. It is effective in moments. It is destabilising in others. The state cannot be run through directives alone, nor can accountability be replaced by personal oversight.
The promise of his leadership lies in his ability to confront entrenched interests. The danger lies in his tendency to bypass institutions. Reform requires discipline. It also requires restraint. Concentration of power cannot become the norm. The PMO cannot become the cabinet. The cabinet cannot become an audience.
Shah has a mandate. He has energy. He has public support. But he also has responsibilities that extend beyond speed and symbolism. His UNGA appearance showed he can speak for Nepal abroad. His domestic record shows institutional strain, uneven execution and a governing style that risks overreach.
Balendra Shah has miles to go,and promises to keep.
The author is a veteran of the 4th Gorkha Rifles of the Indian Army and an analyst on public policy, geopolitics and strategic affairs. Views are personal.