Mahesh Paudyal

It was claimed by a recent report that the number of Nepali youths eligible for work in South Korea under the Employment Permit System had crossed the targeted number, a fact hailed by stakeholders, who called it an “achievement”. Although, on the surface, there might appear to be cause for celebration, what the report ultimately lays bare are the paradoxes of our target-setting conventions, where the country’s priorities are inclined not towards providing jobs in-house, but on sending workers abroad instead—most often to the Middle East.

This is a prevalent mindset in Nepal, where an absurd pride is gleaned from shipping out the nation’s workforce. Whenever a Nepali minister visits a country in the Middle East or Southeast Asia, for instance, labour agreements form a big part of their agendas. Both signatories are delighted with the accord; for the Nepalese counterpart, it is a breakthrough in generating employment for the hoards trying to find work and for the foreign dignitary, it often represents an act of philanthropy. Both never fail to offer prodigal thanks to globalisation—that postmodern God.

Of course, at any given time, there will be people going abroad to work, and this should not be barred—the administration should facilitate their movement as far as possible, as long as they are leaving voluntarily. But setting a targeted number of workers to be exported every year—and doing so publicly—is unsettling in that it reflects our misguided policies in terms of our youths. Not only is it humiliating in its own way, but also has far-reaching consequences.

For one, this ‘target’ bears certain psychological ramifications. Not only does it portray a weak image of the government’s own ambitions in the domestic development sector, but, in that same vein, also sets up a damaging trend by discouraging youths from envisioning themselves working in their own countries, scrambling instead to get visas for elsewhere. As the nation’s guardian and insurer, nothing is as disheartening as a government that doesn’t even put up an appearance of wishing to retain its young workforce and celebrates having become a source of “cheap” labour.

There is also a certain belief here that once workers have left for overseas, their lives are set and they’ve become successful. There might be parameters to judge the magnitude of success, but there are none to measure the quality of happiness it creates. A large portion of the success of any work depends on the worker’s intrinsic engagement with the chore. As research conducted of late regarding the happiness of workers will tell you, what part of a worker’s heart and soul has entered the work makes a lot of difference.

To talk of Nepalis working abroad, there are frequent news stories and reports in the media about the problems that exist within these outbound communities, very often found propped up in wretched conditions. These are people who have left their homes and their families to come to far-off places where they are at odds with their environment—the food, the air, the water—and have no choice but to stay on and bear through any difficulties. Wouldn’t they have fared much better had they been given similar opportunities in their own countries? Such workers, who are plowing through the dust and the scorching heat of the Middle East, while living in the scantiest of circumstances, could very well change the course of industries in Nepal if they were harnessed properly. The money invested in buying an air-ticket to Abu Dhabi would be more than enough to say, carve out a fish pond in any locality, a much more sustainable and home-grown alternative, if only there was some form of security in terms of government support for such endeavours. Sadly, there seems to be none.

Retaining a fleeing workforce is not just a matter of selling dreams. Actual development must be demonstrated. While I am aware of the limitations of the present government in generating employment for all of its unemployed youths, there should at least be some movement towards a long-term policy in this regard. A blueprint for the next 10 years or so, with clearly set priorities for job-creating in the country, would be a good start. Signs of implementation must be shown immediately and advertised heavily. What the charter could also encourage are self-employment opportunities, particularly those in agriculture and animal husbandry—areas more easily accessible to the rural populace.

Setting annual targets for exporting youths abroad is only detrimental to the national development sector in the long run; we must stop taking pride in these numbers. Targets should instead be created around the emergence of new employment opportunities within the nation, and accelerating the same. The key is to show the youths that jobs don’t necessarily have to take them overseas, and to—if not reverse—at least temper this mass labour exodus.

Published on: 10 September 2011 | The Kathmandu Post