Baskadia

National Pride or National Delusion? A Reflection on Modern Nepal

By Bibidh Sejuwal

Nepal is a nation with much to celebrate. From the sweep of the Himalayas to its extraordinary cultural diversity, from centuries-old traditions to the birthplace of Gautama Buddha, Nepal possesses a heritage that inspires wonder both at home and abroad. Pride in one’s country is natural, even necessary. It strengthens social bonds, fosters unity, and motivates citizens to invest in a shared future.

But there is a difference between pride and complacency.

When pride prevents self-reflection, it ceases to be a strength. When it discourages criticism, rejects uncomfortable truths, or substitutes the achievements of the past for the obligations of the present, it becomes an obstacle to progress.

This is the challenge Nepal — like many nations — must now honestly confront.

The Problem With Being Beyond Criticism

One of the most persistent features of public discourse in Nepal is the tendency to treat criticism as an attack rather than an invitation for improvement.

Whether the subject is politics, education, infrastructure, or national identity, criticism is routinely met with defensiveness. Rather than engaging with whether an argument holds merit, discussions frequently devolve into questions about the critic’s motives or loyalty.

Yet criticism is essential to growth.

No individual improves without acknowledging weakness. No institution strengthens without accountability. No nation advances without honest self-assessment. The countries that have achieved remarkable economic and technological transformation did not do so by convincing themselves they had nothing left to fix. They moved forward because they identified shortcomings and addressed them with discipline and urgency.

If Nepal genuinely aspires to progress, it must become more comfortable with uncomfortable conversations.

Patriotism and the Illusion of Superiority

Patriotism is valuable. The belief in national superiority is not.

A healthy patriot takes pride in their country while remaining clear-eyed about its failures. An unhealthy one assumes the nation is exceptional in every regard and interprets any critique as betrayal.

The rise of social media has amplified these more extreme forms of nationalism. Across platforms, one routinely encounters claims that Nepal is uniquely superior, uniquely virtuous, or uniquely significant in global affairs — assertions that are rarely grounded in evidence and rarely conducive to meaningful progress.

National pride should not exist to convince us we are better than everyone else. It should exist to inspire us to become better than we currently are. Those are not the same thing, and confusing them is costly.

Looking Backward Instead of Forward

Among the most damaging tendencies in modern Nepali discourse is the belief that past achievements can compensate for present shortcomings.

There is nothing wrong with celebrating history. Every nation should preserve and honour its heritage. But history becomes a liability when it is used as a substitute for present-day innovation and ambition.

In conversations about science and technology, it is common to hear claims that modern discoveries were already encoded in ancient texts, or that contemporary science is merely rediscovering what our ancestors understood centuries ago. Even granting that certain ancient insights were remarkable for their era, this reasoning fundamentally misses the point.

Scientific progress is not measured by what was known in the past. It is measured by what is being discovered today.

The nations leading the world in innovation are not succeeding because they constantly invoke their ancestors’ achievements. They succeed because they invest relentlessly in research, education, experimentation, and critical thinking. Progress is created, not inherited.

The Buddha Question

Few topics evoke stronger national pride than the fact that Gautama Buddha was born in Nepal. And rightly so — historical truth matters, and this is a genuinely extraordinary fact.

But an important question deserves to be asked: do we spend more energy defending where the Buddha was born than understanding what he actually taught?

The significance of the Buddha lies not in a geographical coordinate but in the transformative ideas he offered to humanity — compassion, wisdom, mindfulness, the discipline of the mind, and the relentless pursuit of truth. These are the qualities that made his teachings resonate across continents and centuries.

If Nepal truly wishes to honour Buddha’s legacy, it must focus not only on preserving his birthplace but on embodying the values that made him remarkable in the first place.

A civilisation is measured not by the extraordinary individuals it produces, but by the extent to which it lives according to their ideals.

The Cost of Self-Congratulation

A recurring pattern in Nepali public life is the tendency to celebrate potential while evading questions of performance.

We speak proudly of what Nepal could become, what our ancestors accomplished, and what unique qualities our nation possesses. Far less attention is given to harder, more necessary questions: the quality of our educational institutions, our investment in scientific research, the productivity of our economy, the reliability of our governance, our standing in global competitiveness.

National confidence is important. National self-congratulation is not.

A country does not become great by repeatedly declaring its greatness. It becomes great through consistent effort, honest evaluation, and a genuine willingness to learn — including from others who may be doing certain things better.

Acknowledging that another country outperforms Nepal in a given area is not defeatism. It is the beginning of improvement. The true failure lies not in recognising a gap, but in refusing to close it.

Why This Matters

Some readers may interpret these observations as pessimistic or unpatriotic.

They are neither.

The desire to improve one’s country is not a form of hostility toward it — it is one of the most authentic forms of love for it.

A doctor identifies illness because they want the patient to recover. An engineer identifies a flaw because they want the structure to stand. A citizen identifies a problem because they want their nation to flourish. Pretending problems do not exist has never solved them. History consistently shows that the societies which transform themselves are those willing to face their weaknesses honestly.

The nations that have moved from poverty to prosperity, from instability to strength, did not get there on pride alone. They got there through discipline, self-criticism, investment in human capital, and an openness to ideas that challenged their existing assumptions.

Building a Better Nepal

Nepal’s greatest resource is not its mountains, its monuments, or its history.

It is its people.

The country is full of talented students, hardworking professionals, innovative entrepreneurs, dedicated teachers, skilled workers, and creative thinkers who are more than capable of transforming the nation’s future. The potential is real and it is significant.

But unlocking that potential requires a cultural shift.

We must become more receptive to criticism and less dependent on validation. We must reward competence over rhetoric, and evidence over emotion. We must cultivate scientific thinking rather than reflexively embracing claims that merely confirm our existing biases. We must celebrate what Nepal is achieving today with the same passion we reserve for what it achieved centuries ago.

And above all, we must understand that patriotism and self-criticism are not opposites. They are partners. A citizen who identifies a problem and works toward a solution contributes immeasurably more to the nation than one who insists no problem exists.

Conclusion

Nepal possesses extraordinary potential.

Its people are resilient, resourceful, and capable of achievements that would make the next generation justifiably proud. But potential does not transform itself into progress. That requires something less comfortable and more valuable than pride — it requires humility.

The humility to admit mistakes. To accept criticism. To learn from others without shame. To recognise that pride disconnected from improvement is ultimately hollow.

The future of Nepal will not be determined by how often we praise ourselves. It will be determined by how honestly we evaluate ourselves — and how seriously we act on what we find.

National pride is valuable when it inspires excellence. It becomes harmful when it stands in the place of it.

The nations that endure and lead are not those that endlessly proclaim their greatness. They are those that continually do the difficult, unglamorous work of becoming greater.

Nepal stands at exactly that crossroads.

One path offers comfort, defensiveness, and the warm consolation of a celebrated past.

The other offers accountability, innovation, and the harder-won satisfaction of a meaningful future.

The choice belongs to us.

The question is not whether Nepal should be proud.

The question is whether that pride is building a better country — or quietly preventing one.