We Can March Together, But Can We Invest Together?

MANI KUMAR TAMANG

OPINION

The missing culture of collective economic institution-building in Gorkha society

There is an uncomfortable question that Gorkha society needs to ask itself: Why have we not built a major financial institution of our own? We have produced soldiers, teachers, professors, civil servants, bankers, engineers, doctors, entrepreneurs and professionals. We have established schools, colleges, social organisations, cultural institutions and countless community associations. We have demonstrated extraordinary capacity to mobilise whenever our identity, dignity or political future is at stake. Yet, despite all this human and social capital, we have not produced a major financial institution that can be owned, expanded and passed from one generation of Gorkhas to another.

This is not a question of intelligence or ability. Nor should it become an accusation that Gorkhas cannot do business. There are many successful Gorkha entrepreneurs. The deeper question is whether we have developed the culture of collective economic institution-building that some other communities have successfully developed.

The world offers many examples. In the Netherlands, Rabobank emerged from small cooperative banks created by farmers who needed access to credit. Farmers pooled their resources and created institutions to finance one another. In Canada, Desjardins began in 1900 as a financial cooperative serving ordinary people and eventually grew into one of the country's largest financial groups. Across the world, credit unions have demonstrated the same principle: ordinary people can become owners of financial institutions by pooling relatively modest resources and developing systems of democratic governance and professional management.

They did not begin by asking, "Who among us is rich enough to start a bank?" They began by asking, "How can we pool what we have and build something together?"

Nepal's banking history offers another important lesson. Nepal's modern banking system initially developed with strong government involvement and later through joint ventures with foreign institutions. Banks such as Himalayan Bank, Everest Bank and Nepal Indosuez Bank were established with foreign participation from Pakistan, India and France respectively. But Nepalese society gradually developed its own banking entrepreneurs, professionals and investors. Nepalese-controlled institutions such as Prime Commercial Bank and Mega Bank emerged during the expansion of private banking. Mega Bank was particularly interesting because its promoter base included people from varied professional and middle-class backgrounds, while its founding chairman, Prof. Dr. Madan Kumar Dahal, was an economist and university academic. Mega later merged with Nepal Investment Bank to become Nepal Investment Mega Bank.

The lesson is not that foreign participation is undesirable. Foreign partners can bring capital, technology, expertise and institutional experience. The important lesson is that a society must eventually develop the confidence and capacity to own and control its own institutions.

There is an even more relevant example much closer to us: Citizen's Urban Co-operative Bank in Sikkim. Founded by retired government engineer P.K. Pradhan, the bank began by mobilising colleagues, friends and relatives. It started with just 516 shareholders and modest capital. More than two decades later, it has grown into a regulated cooperative banking institution with thousands of shareholders and several branches. At the end of 2024–25, it reported more than 7,500 shareholders, deposits exceeding ?96 crore and net worth of about ?8.68 crore.

The significance of this example goes beyond the size of the bank. It demonstrates that institution-building does not necessarily begin with billionaires. It can begin with a professional, an idea, a group of ordinary investors and the willingness to build something patiently.

So the question becomes uncomfortable: If it could be done in Sikkim, why have we not developed such a movement across the wider Gorkha community?

Perhaps the answer lies in the way we understand unity.

Gorkha society possesses enormous social capital. We can organise rallies, cultural programmes, social gatherings and political movements. We have shown remarkable courage and sacrifice in the history of the Gorkhaland movement. Thousands have stood together, marched together and carried the same flag. People have been willing to sacrifice time, income, comfort and, in some cases, even their lives for a collective political aspiration.

But political unity and economic unity are not the same thing.

A political movement can ask for our presence. An economic institution asks for our participation and our capital. A political organisation can mobilise us through emotion and identity. A financial institution requires trust, patience, accountability, professional management and a willingness to accept calculated risk.

This may be one of our greatest weaknesses: we have learned how to mobilise people, but not sufficiently how to mobilise capital.

We often expect collective benefits without equivalent individual participation. We want better educational institutions, employment opportunities, financial services and economic development, but when the question becomes, "How much are you personally willing to invest?" enthusiasm often declines.

Suppose 10,000 people invest ?10,000 each. That creates ?10 crore. Fifty thousand people investing the same amount would create ?50 crore. Of course, such money alone cannot establish a commercial bank; banking is highly regulated and requires substantial capital, professional management and regulatory approval. But the calculation demonstrates a fundamental principle: collective wealth begins with individual participation.

Perhaps we need to move away from the mentality of "What will I get?" toward "What can I help build?"

Another problem is fragmentation. We have numerous organisations representing different groups, regions, professions, interests and political viewpoints. We are very good at creating committees, associations and organisations. But organisations often revolve around individuals and leadership positions. Institutions are different. An institution must survive its founder, its president, its secretary, its political affiliations and even its internal disagreements.

An organisation may depend on a personality; an institution depends on a system.

This distinction is critical.

We also need to reconsider our relationship with employment and entrepreneurship. Gorkhas have historically achieved considerable advancement through military service, government employment, teaching and salaried professions. There is nothing wrong with seeking secure employment. But a community cannot create lasting economic power through employment alone.

Employees earn salaries. Entrepreneurs create businesses. Institution-builders create systems that can employ generations.

This is why the question we ask our children should not only be, "What job will you get?" It should also be, "What institution can you build?"

There is another irony. We have Gorkha bankers, accountants, auditors, managers, economists and financial professionals who understand the banking system. Yet professional knowledge has not translated into enough community-owned financial institutions. The problem, therefore, may not be lack of knowledge. It may be lack of collective risk-taking.

Building an institution means accepting that the return may not come immediately. It means trusting others while demanding transparency. It means accepting professional governance instead of personal control. It means investing in something whose greatest benefits may be enjoyed by people who are not even born today.

That is a very different mentality from seeking immediate personal benefit.

This is where the cooperative movement could become particularly important. We should not immediately dream of creating a giant commercial bank. We should first learn to build strong, professionally governed cooperatives and community-owned enterprises. A cooperative teaches the basic disciplines of collective economics: membership, share capital, savings, credit, governance, accountability, professional management and reinvestment.

It can transform a person from merely a customer into an owner.

Perhaps we have misunderstood what Gorkha unity should mean. Unity cannot simply mean standing under one flag. It cannot mean attending one rally or supporting one political organisation. Those are forms of political unity. We also need economic unity.

Economic unity means: I invest. You invest. We own. We govern. We build. We reinvest. Our children inherit the institution.

That is a deeper form of unity because it creates something tangible and enduring.

The next great Gorkha initiative, therefore, may not need to be another organisation. We have enough organisations. What we need are institutions—institutions that can survive leaders, elections, political changes and generations.

Perhaps the next generation should measure success differently. Instead of asking how many rallies we organised, we should ask how many sustainable enterprises we created. Instead of counting how many people attended a programme, we should count how many people became shareholders. Instead of asking how many flags we carried, we should ask how much productive capital we created.

Our history has taught us courage. Our political movements have taught us sacrifice. Our education has given us knowledge. Our professions have given us skills. But the next stage requires something else: the discipline to convert social capital into financial capital and financial capital into institutions.

The question is therefore not simply, "Why don't Gorkhas have a bank?"

The deeper question is:

Why have we not yet developed the culture necessary to build one?

Perhaps we have spent too much time proving that we can fight together and too little time learning how to build together. Perhaps we have mastered the politics of mobilisation but not the economics of participation.

We have already demonstrated that Gorkhas can sacrifice for an idea.

Now we must demonstrate that Gorkhas can invest in an institution.

A flag can mobilise a crowd for a day. An institution can empower a community for generations.

(Mani Kumar Tamang is an educational leader, cooperative activist, and independent researcher based in Kalimpong. Views are personal. Email: manitamang1974@gmail.com)