Nepal’s 5 March election may represent one of the most significant political shifts since the country adopted its republican constitution in 2015. What began as a youth-led protest last year has grown into a strong electoral mandate.&nbsp;
The Rastriya Swatantra Party (RSP), led by Kathmandu’s former mayor Balendra ‘Balen’ Shah, appears set for a major victory, reshaping the political landscape and challenging the long-standing dominance of traditional parties.
The scale of this change is truly remarkable. Early vote counts show the RSP winning or leading in most regions, outpacing well-established political figures and ending the dominance of parties like the Nepali Congress and the Communist factions.
Based on current trends, the RSP appears on track to secure an outright majority within Nepal’s 275-seat lower house of Parliament. It might also achieve a two-thirds majority once the results of the proportional representation segment of Nepal’s mixed electoral system are finalised. This development contradicts a common assumption among most analysts – including this one – that Nepal’s complex electoral system would make unstable coalition governments likely.
A COMPLICATED PHASE
For many Nepalis, especially the youth, this election means more than just a regular democratic process. It signifies a rejection of the old political order. Still, the RSP’s electoral success does not mean all of Nepal’s political problems are solved. In fact, it marks the beginning of a more complicated phase.
The rise of the RSP highlights widespread dissatisfaction with Nepal’s political leadership. Years of instability, corruption, economic stagnation, and high unemployment have eroded public trust in traditional parties.
The turning point came with youth protests in September 2025, driven by frustration with government policies and social discontent. These protests led to Prime Minister Khadga Prasad Sharma Oli’s resignation and early elections.
In this atmosphere, the RSP positioned itself as a change-maker. Its anti-corruption rhetoric, active social media presence, and connection with young voters resonated with the public mood.
What is happening now is a major political upheaval. Established parties, used to sharing power, now face a very different political landscape. However, turning electoral support into effective governance will be a major challenge, far more difficult than winning votes.
The first big hurdle for any RSP-led government will be managing governance itself. While the party’s rise is fueled by hopes of reform, turning those hopes into real policies will require strong administration, discipline, and teamwork, traits that new political parties often struggle to develop.
Nepal’s bureaucratic system is complex and often resistant to change. Overhauling government institutions, improving public services, and fighting corruption will need continuous reforms, not just words.
Public expectations are sky-high. Ironically, this might be the biggest challenge for the RSP. If reforms stall or internal conflicts arise, public disillusionment could grow quickly.
Nepal’s economy faces serious issues. Many citizens work abroad, sending remittances that support the economy but also highlight the lack of local opportunities. Youth unemployment, underemployment, and slow economic growth are ongoing problems.
An RSP-led government must develop a credible economic plan focused on job creation, attracting investment, and infrastructure. Without visible progress, the initial enthusiasm for change could fade fast.
Meanwhile, Nepal’s young population is a vital resource. If the new government harnesses this talent by encouraging entrepreneurship, using technology, and investing in education, it can turn societal frustration into economic development.
Nepal’s strategic position between India and China adds extra complexity. The country has traditionally kept a delicate balance in its relations with both neighbors, along with other international partners. The new government might face pressure to shift this balance, with both India and China closely watching foreign policy moves. The challenge is to protect Nepal’s sovereignty while gaining the economic aid needed for growth.
UNIQUE OPPORTUNITY
Despite these challenges, the 5 March election offers a unique opportunity. Nepal’s democracy, often complicated, has once again shown its resilience and ability to renew itself. Voters have peacefully replaced the old political elite with a new generation of leaders, an achievement worth celebrating.
If the RSP can move beyond protest politics and develop a comprehensive governance plan, Nepal could enter a new era of growth and renewal. A government dedicated to integrity, opportunity, and reform could rebuild public trust in democracy.
However, history warns us that revolutions often create expectations that exceed institutional capacity. For Nepal, the real work begins now.
Sanjay Upadhya is the author and analyst based in the United States. Originally posted <a href="https://www.linkedin.com/pulse/nepals-mandate-change-test-governance-sanjay-upadhya-soafc">here</a>.

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Opinion

Nepal’s mandate for change

Sanae Takaichi’s electoral victory in February marks a historic turning point in Japanese politics. As Japan’s first female prime minister and the leader of a commanding parliamentary majority, she represents change in both symbolic and strategic terms. 
Conventional wisdom long held that younger Japanese voters leaned progressive, were sceptical of assertive security policies, and disengaged from ideological nationalism. Yet a segment of digitally active youth rallied behind a politician associated with constitutional revision, expanded defence capabilities, and a more unapologetic articulation of national identity. 
This shift cannot be reduced to a simple conservative swing. Rather, Takaichi’s rise reflects a deeper transformation in how democratic politics is constructed in the digital age: the growing power of imagery, digital mobilisation, and algorithm-driven branding in shaping political choice—particularly among younger voters.
Takaichi’s approval ratings among voters aged 18–29 approached 90% in some surveys, far surpassing those of her predecessors. Youth turnout also rose, suggesting that Japanese youth are not politically apathetic. 
On the contrary, they are paying attention—but the nature of that engagement has changed. Viral images, short video clips, hashtags, and aesthetic cues travelled faster and farther than policy briefings. For many younger voters, engagement began—and sometimes ended—with the visual and emotional appeal of the candidate. 
This pattern is not uniquely Japanese. However, the scale of its impact in this election suggests that political communication has entered a new phase in which digital imagery can shape electoral outcomes as much as—or more than—substantive debate.
A New Phase of Digital Politics in Japan
In the months leading up to the election, Takaichi’s image proliferated across social media platforms. Supporters circulated clips highlighting her confident demeanour and historic candidacy. 
A cultural trend sometimes described as ‘sanakatsu’ or ‘sanae-mania’ framed political support as a form of fandom participation. Hashtags multiplied. ‘Mic-drop’ moments went viral. Even personal accessories—her handbags and ballpoint pens—became symbolic conversation pieces.
Political enthusiasm has always contained emotional and symbolic elements. What is new is the speed and scale at which digital platforms amplify them. Algorithms reward content that provokes reaction—admiration, anger, excitement. A charismatic clip often outperforms a detailed explanation of fiscal reform. 
For younger voters raised in scroll-based media environments, political information increasingly arrives as curated snippets. Policy complexity competes with—and often loses to—aesthetic immediacy.
Post-election surveys and interviews suggested that many first-time voters struggled to articulate specific policy distinctions between parties. Instead, they cited impressions—strength, change, decisiveness, novelty—suggesting that digital engagement does not automatically translate into policy literacy. 
Political identity can form through repeated exposure to imagery and narrative rather than sustained examination of legislative proposals. When campaigns are optimised for shareability, they are incentivised to simplify. Nuance compresses poorly into short-form video.
The Politics of Strength in an Age of Uncertainty
Japan’s younger generation has grown up amid prolonged economic stagnation, regional insecurity, and global volatility. China’s rise, tensions over Taiwan, North Korean missile launches, and persistent wage stagnation form the backdrop of their political participation. For many, the future feels uncertain and structurally constrained.
In such an environment, Takaichi’s assertive rhetoric carried emotional resonance. Her emphasis on strengthening national defence, revisiting aspects of the postwar settlement, and making Japan “strong and rich” projected clarity rather than ambiguity. Where institutional politics can appear technocratic or slow, decisive messaging offered the voters psychological reassurance.
At the core of her appeal is a narrative of restoring a ‘strong’ Japan. Calls for constitutional revision and expanded defence capabilities are framed as steps toward recovering national self-confidence. For younger Japanese fatigued by protracted historical disputes and what some perceive as externally imposed guilt, language emphasising pride and sovereignty resonates more readily than complex historical debates. 
This may not signal a rejection of peace. Rather, it may reflect a generational reframing of peace itself—understood not solely as pacifism, but as deterrence, defence capability, and strategic autonomy. Messages stressing ‘sovereignty’, ‘strength’, and ‘normal country’ can circulate more effectively in shareable digital formats than nuanced and complex historical analysis.
A Global Pattern: Virtual Branding, a Democratic Crossroads
Japan’s experience mirrors a broader transformation in democratic politics: the rise of virtual branding as the central organising principle of electoral strategy. In earlier eras, campaigns revolved around party platforms and televised debates. 
Today, strategy increasingly begins with platform optimisation. Campaigns are designed not only to persuade, but to perform within algorithmic systems. The guiding question is no longer only “What policies do we stand for?” but “What content travels?”
The election of Donald Trump in the United States illustrated how virtual media strategy can reshape political competition. Memorable slogans and emotionally charged posts dominated attention cycles, often eclipsing policy detail. Scholars have described this as “attention economics in action”: the candidate who captures digital attention shapes political reality before formal debate even begins. 
More recently, figures such as Zohran Mamdani have demonstrated how youth-centered digital branding can mobilise support with remarkable speed. Campaigns became participatory; supporters did not merely consume messaging but actively distributed political identity.
Takaichi’s recent victory reflects the evolving mechanics of digital democracy. Her leadership will ultimately be judged not by imagery but by governance — by whether her policies deliver economic stability, regional security, and social cohesion. The broader question, however, transcends any single administration. It means political decisions have migrated into digital environments optimised for speed and visual communication. 
In an age where images travel faster than ideas, democratic choice risks being guided more by what is seen than by what is discussed. In such an environment, political campaigns will be forced to adapt, and produce content that performs well within these algorithmic constraints. 
Over time, this may reshape voter expectations and politics will begin to resemble influencer culture. Campaigns that fail to master digital branding risk will appear outdated. Those that succeed can mobilise youth at scale.
Democracy has always balanced emotion and reason. The challenge today is ensuring that emotion does not eclipse reason entirely. The future of informed citizenship may depend on restoring that balance. 
This does not suggest that previous eras were immune to personality politics. What has changed is the proportion. The digital environment magnifies symbolic cues and compresses policy discussion. If democracies wish to maintain robust deliberation, they must consciously rebalance image and substance. 
This requires civic education focused on media literacy, <a href="https://toda.org/policy-briefs-and-resources/policy-briefs/deliberative-technology-designing-ai-and-computational-democracy-for-peacebuilding.html">virtual platform incentives that elevate substantive debate</a> and political leadership willing to engage in depth, not just virality. And the responsibility is collective—voters, educators, media institutions, and candidates alike. The question facing democracies is whether this transformation can coexist with substantive deliberation or whether branding will increasingly overtake it.
Ria Shibata is a Senior Research Fellow at the New Zealand Centre for Global Studies, and the Toda Peace Institute in Japan. She also serves as a Visiting Scholar at the University of Auckland. 
This article was issued by the Toda Peace Institute and has been republished from <a href="https://toda.org/global-outlook/2026/imagery-algorithms-and-the-ballot-what-takaichis-victory-says-about-youth-politics-in-the-digital-age.html">the original</a> with permission.

Imagery, Algorithms, and the Ballot

To mark International Women’s Day on 8 March right after the election, we had planned a Diaspora Diaries series focusing on female migrants. What are their aspirations? What challenges or opportunities are unique to them as female migrants? And, what are their expectations from the new government? The stories would also draw attention to one group we could not manage to speak with at the airport: domestic workers.&nbsp; Why? Because the government has <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/two-decades-of-debate-on-female-migration" target="_blank">banned</a> domestic work in the Gulf. You will not find them at the airport, at least not with a labour permit for domestic work. They are mostly traveling through the India, migrating but without required documents, adequate pre-departure skills and orientation training. They remain invisible in government records, and are left to fend for themselves. This has been one of the most persistent failures of multiple governments despite <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/nepal-s-unchanging-migration-saga" target="_blank">evidence</a> that such bans amplify the very abuses that they are designed to address. But while working on the profiles of female migrants, war broke out in West Asia. Millions of workers are at risk, including the domestic workers. Crises expose cracks in our system and policies. During Covid-19, for example, repatriation efforts revealed gaps in data and coordination, particularly concerning domestic workers. Precisely when the government needed to know how many Nepalis were overseas, where they were located, and how to assist them, they were absent in records, lacked documentation and were ineligible for welfare services that required valid labour permits. Labour permits are important because they are tied to the government’s data management system, and are critical for record-keeping. They are issued only after workers complete pre-departure training tailored to their sector and contribute to the welfare fund which provides various services during crises. But we have failed to learn lessons from past failures. WAR FEARS Nepalis in the Gulf have told us they are safe so far, although there is an atmosphere of fear and anxiety. The explosions are frightening, especially for children. Attacks are not confined to base camps, but airports, oil refineries and embassies have also not been spared, fuelling further fear. If regional tensions escalate and evacuation becomes necessary, it would be an enormous challenge given the size of the diaspora in the Gulf. Female domestic workers would be especially vulnerable, partly given the nature of their work but also because our emigration system contributed to it. The task of collecting information of all migrants whether they are documented or not through an online registration system should already begin, says Krishna Panthi of the Non-resident Nepalese Association (NRNA) in Qatar. One consistent theme in conversations with migrants is the need to have more effective Nepal embassies abroad. Crises like this magnify the weaknesses of our embassies or labour diplomacy. Migrant workers frequently cite Philippine embassies as good examples of taking care of its overseas workers. They are also significantly better resourced and staffed than Nepal’s embassies. How diplomats are appointed needs to be reformed, embassies must have sufficient resources for the size of the population they serve, they must build relationships with the destination country and back home, and they should be held accountable.&nbsp; This crisis is a reminder for the incoming government to allocate adequate resources from the budget to the foreign employment sector. This means increasing staffing and strengthening our diplomatic missions while holding them accountable for their primary task — address the needs of overseas Nepalis.&nbsp; But the West Asia war is happening now. We make the best of what we have in an all hands on deck way. Leveraging diaspora groups will be critical in supporting migrants to cast the net widely. A recent letter from the NRNA-International Coordination Council urged the government to prepare and coordinate effectively, immediately mobilising volunteers. Another consistent theme among migrants is that the new government create jobs with liveable wages in Nepal itself so they do not have to leave. Even those who earned adequate wages in Nepal said they were just one crisis away from indebtedness because of a health shock in the family or a household emergency. Political party manifestos all mention job creation, but how this will be realised in practice is what actually matters.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026030307030_e294cfe36d054a4cca8cbf50010292cc1e174bac74147f1eaa29b30f55591632.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="2026030307030_e294cfe36d054a4cca8cbf50010292cc1e174bac74147f1eaa29b30f55591632" data-rendition-name="original" width="1778" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Migration, election, and war NT"> </figure>  Many Nepalis may now be compelled to return or not leave in the first place because of wars, pandemics or other economic or geopolitical shocks. Whether returns are planned or unplanned, meaningful jobs back home, an environment to run successful businesses and good remigration options allowing migrants to build on previous experiences need to be prioritised. This crisis has again proven that lack of diversification in destination countries makes Nepalis more vulnerable. Concerns about the lack of diversification also emerged when Malaysia, another major destination country, closed its doors to foreign workers for almost two years. It is important to invest in labour mobility partnerships such as those with Korea, Japan and the UAE. A pilot agreement with the UAE for domestic workers is yet to be implemented.&nbsp; Overseas demand will continue, as destruction on this scale will inevitably be followed by reconstruction. Demographic change and the need for migrants in essential job categories are critical to keeping societies functioning.&nbsp; A Jordan-Nepal agreement for garment workers with support from International Labor Organization (ILO), for example, has opened up opportunities for thousands of women for garment jobs linked to multinational brands who are recruited ethically without having to pay fees.&nbsp; Rita Choudhury from Rautahat who was at SCC Manpower that manages deployment of garment workers to Jordan told us, “We are benefiting from free training in tailoring before we migrate for free to Jordan. I will earn money working for a few years and can continue the same work once I am back and create jobs in my village for those who are unemployed.” Of all the migrant workers who left last year, 12.9% were female with over half of them migrating just to three countries: UAE, Qatar and Kuwait.&nbsp; From tracking what candidates are up to in this week’s election, Nepalis have now switched focus on monitoring the situation in the Gulf. With every refresh, there is a new missile intercepted or a debris that has hit some building. Workers in office jobs have moved to remote work, outdoor work is restricted, and other jobs, such as those in the service sector, have reduced personnel. Many workers are confined to their rooms including those evacuated from American military bases.&nbsp; A Nepali from Gorkha, Diwas Shrestha, who worked as a security guard was among those killed in the UAE on 1 March. Social media posts show some narrowly escaping falling debris of intercepted missiles while many are stranded at airports. Even though the West Asia war has diverted our attention, now more than ever we need bold, visionary leadership that we can actually count on. To collectively heal from our internal crisis borne out of frustration and distrust with the system that came at a huge cost including young lives lost on 8 September — some of whom were in Kathmandu waiting to fly out for overseas jobs. The government has also constantly overlooked Nepalis abroad who cannot vote. This includes 2 million of them in West Asia, in the middle of a crisis that threatens their safety and livelihoods. As this election shows, the diaspora maybe disenfranchised but it is not disengaged. Nepalis overseas are campaigning through calls, letters, posters on suitcases and social media. Many are leaving Nepal and voting with their feet because the safe job overseas is more important than any ballot. Others are returning because the ballot is more important than the job. Many Nepalis who were flying home this week to cast their vote are stranded in Dubai, Doha and Kuwait, and may not make it on time. Migrants who were on their way out are stuck at home, and many have returned to their villages to vote as they wait for flights to resume. What struck us most in our <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/overseas-nepali-vote-bank" target="_blank">interviews</a> on elections and migration these past couple of months was the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/homecoming-at-election-time" target="_blank">urgency</a> with which many migrants approached this election. Many traveled home convinced that their individual vote mattered because the stakes are just so high. Will the new government reciprocate to this disenfranchised population and deliver with the same sense of urgency? Upasana Khadka heads Migration Lab, a social enterprise aimed at making migration outcomes better for workers and their families. Labour Mobility is a regular column in Nepali Times.

Upasana Khadka

Labour Mobility

Women, migration, election, and war

For years, the Middle East has been described through the language of fracture. Conflict zones. Proxy wars. Collapsing states. Yet here in the Gulf, and especially in the United Arab Emirates, a different narrative took hold. Stability. Efficiency. Ambition. A belief that even amid regional disorder, it was possible to chart a different trajectory, to pave the way toward a more stable and generous future.
Abu Dhabi became synonymous with planning rather than improvisation. With infrastructure rather than rubble. With innovation rather than despair. People from across the world came here to work, to build, to test themselves and succeed together. It cultivated belonging, investing in youth, knowledge, and possibility. It fostered a confidence that felt earned rather than proclaimed.
It was also a place where policymaking could be observed almost as a craft. Flexible yet disciplined. Experimental yet strategic. Institutions were built, adjusted, refined. Governance did not feel theatrical. It felt intentional. To watch that process was a reminder that the state can still function with competence and imagination.
In many ways, this place has resembled a modern ark. Diverse. Layered. Hopeful. A convergence of global citizens from countries rich and poor building lives together. The shock of what is unfolding here is not regional and certainly not local. These communities are now experiencing firsthand what hardened geopolitics feels like. And that experience will travel. It will reverberate far beyond this coastline.
And then the bombs fall.
It is one thing to analyze geopolitics from a distance, to speak of deterrence, escalation la­­dders, strategic signaling, calibrated retaliation. It is another to sit at home, phone in hand, watching alerts multiply, calculating distances on a map, wondering whether to stock up on groceries, whether schools will open, whether flights will leave.
When geopolitical analysis becomes lived reality, its vocabulary collapses.
Families here are not debating doctrine. They are calming children. Scanning supermarket shelves. Texting relatives abroad. Realizing that departure, in a moment of regional shutdown, is not simple. Authorities move quickly to reassure residents that systems are functioning, defenses activated, contingencies in place.
The instability is not internally generated. It is the spillover of wider confrontation. Which is precisely why the shock cuts deeper. When safety has been the baseline, its sudden fragility is both maddening and humbling.
For the strongest players in the Gulf, and especially the United Arab Emirates, the aspiration was clear. To anchor stability in a region marked by volatility. To project competence rather than chaos. To invest in education, culture, renewable energy, artificial intelligence. To become crossroads of capital, ideas, and mobility. The promise was not merely economic. It was existential. That one could live expansively, in confident openness, securely.
How quickly the horizon narrows.
There is a growing normalization of strategies in which weapons and attacks are treated as routine instruments of statecraft. Infrastructure becomes leverage. Shipping lanes become bargaining chips. Energy corridors become pressure points. The line between military signaling and diplomatic coercion blurs. Once that threshold is crossed, it rarely contracts. It expands.
Centers of power speak of necessity, red lines, deterrence. But the lived reality of those within range of missiles is fear, uncertainty, and vulnerability. The map looks orderly from afar. Up close, it is populated by parents, workers, students, retirees negotiating the fragile routines of ordinary life.
Those accustomed to secure and well-organized societies internalize safety as baseline, mobility as entitlement, connectivity as permanent. We forget how contingent these conditions are.
For many societies, instability is not interruption. It is structure. Perhaps this moment offers us a more honest proximity to that reality.
None of this flattens responsibility. The United States, Israel, Iran, and regional powers operate within distinct security logics. Yet one sobering reality remains. When force becomes a primary currency of political communication, the threshold for its use lowers. The exceptional becomes routine. The outcome grows precarious.
From Abu Dhabi this week, geopolitics is no longer abstraction. It is audible. It is logistical. It is personal.
Abu Dhabi will do its utmost to keep everyone hopeful and feeling safe. Systems will function. Reassurances will come. Stability here is cultivated, not accidental. A return to calm is in everyone’s interest.
But in this suspended moment, as alerts replace routine, we are given something rare. Time to reflect. To reconsider. To reckon, individually and communally, with the fragility of what we so casually call normal life.
And that should compel policymakers and citizens alike to ask what kind of normal we are willing to accept, and whether we are surrendering the very conditions that make ordinary life possible.
Sophia Kalantzakos is Global Distinguished Professor of Environmental Studies and Public Policy in the Sheikh Mohamed bin Zayed Scholars Program (SMSP), New York University Abu Dhabi.&nbsp;
Reprinted with permission from <a href="https://www.ekathimerini.com/opinion/1296678/when-geopolitics-becomes-lived-reality/">ekathimerini.com</a>

When geopolitics becomes lived reality

What is common across all major political parties contesting the election on Friday is that they are all led by influential men.&nbsp;
Rabi Lamichhane + Balendra Shah duo head the RSP, Gagan Thapa leads the Nepali Congress (NC), the UML’ s K P Oli is still leader, Kulman Ghising is the founder and leader of the Ujyalo Nepal Party, and there is Harka Sampang of the Shram Sanskriti Party.&nbsp;
These men do not just lead the parties, they are the parties. Their authority within the party is largely uncontested and is sustained through loyalty to the deeply familiar Nepali figure of the Dai or Ba, the elder brother or father who is trusted, defended, and followed.
For the most part, they do not exert influence due to leadership skills but through a reinforcement of the idea that their leadership is the solution to the political crisis facing Nepal. Around these men is a loyal orbit of supporters, extending from central committee members to party cadres, mostly men.
Supporters amplify the idea of their chosen leadership and defend them at all cost in the public sphere, and especially on social media where polarising and controversial speech is rewarded by the design feature of the platforms.
Only 395 out of the 3,484 first-past-the-post (FPTP) candidates are women, in the upcoming elections. Of the biggest parties, the NC has only 6.67% women, UML 7.92%, NCP 6,90 %, RSP 9.73%, Shram Sanskriti Party 6.42%, UNP 5.79% and Janata Samajwadi party 8.41%.&nbsp;
The highest among the parties is not even 10%. The numbers represent the interconnected manospheres that pervade all layers of Nepali politics — it is not merely exclusion, but a systematic structuring of gender in politics.
Manosphere as an umbrella term for online communities that have increasingly promoted narrow and aggressive definitions of what it means to be a man, and the false narrative that feminism and gender equality have come at the cost of men’s rights. These communities promote the idea that emotional control, material wealth, physical appearance and dominance, especially over women, are markers of male worth.
It is an internet phenomenon, but it also relates to how men have hoarded power and taken up space in Nepali politics that constitutionally belongs to women, without exception of a single major party. While certainly the leaders of the parties are not spearheading manospheres, their support systems and structural organisation show characteristics akin to one.
A distinct feature of a manosphere is the attitude of rejection it carries towards liberalism, democratic pillars of inclusion and participation, political correctness, and they distort biology and evolution in argument of restrictive gender roles. They assign men as de facto leaders and women as followers, if not adversaries. Manospheres operate with an underlying understanding that feminism or women empowerment is detrimental to men.
This feature of the manosphere is starkly visible in how women in politics have experienced this election, in their campaigning on social media. From Ranju Darshana to Nisha Adhikari to Reema Biswokarma, their social media posts have comments from people trying to tell them of their place in society.
A pregnant politician and two artists turned politicians, are routinely told that their pursuit of leadership is not what the society needs. Even Prime Minister Sushila Karki was vilified publicly by Durga Prasai publicly, and was met with laughter from the circle of people around him.
Digital platforms have become an open arena for misogynistic attacks against women, often delegitimising their political participation rather than hosting democratic dialogue. Women who ascribe to the idea of the leadership archetype endorsed by the manosphere, are lauded for their participation. Responses to the speech of the RSP’s Sobita Gautam in Janakpur is an example.
Another symptom of the manosphere in Nepali politics is that it endorses violence, be it rhetorically, or equating it with leadership. By drooling over the violence spewed by them, instead of looking at evidence of capacity for governance, thoughts on inclusion, visions for development and much more, the definition of being a leader is narrowed.&nbsp;
When our politics are up for debate in social media platforms, unsurprisingly, vile and inflammatory language becomes a recipe for success, hence amplifying ‘leaders’ who revert to such tactics.
A study by researchers at Dublin City University found that newly created teen-boy accounts on TikTok and YouTube Shorts were algorithmically exposed to sexist and misogynistic content within about the first 23 minutes of use, even when they were not deliberately looking for it. So naturally, misogyny sells.&nbsp;
Besides, groups on Facebook have been mobilised during campaigning for elections. The most prominent men only group in Nepal MRR was disabled by Meta prior to the October 2022 election for violating their terms and conditions.
While it is not new that women in Nepali politics have endured misogyny, it has been magnified by how political discourses online occur in the manospheres. There is no conversation on how Gagan Thapa will not become the next Sher Bahadur Deuba, there is no debate on how the newly formed government will meet the constitutional requirement of having at least 33% women in the House — it is only about which man is more suitable to be the next prime minister of Nepal in a system that does not directly appoint them.
Even if we were to believe the misogyny online is not representative of our society’s views on women, the avalanche of toxicity on the platforms is something we have to learn to live with.&nbsp;
Women interested in politics must come prepared to endure hate. Likewise, if these comments are not real, and are bots or fake accounts that seek to demoralise women, then we must understand that the political powers of today are weaponising misogyny to prevent women from being leaders.
Ayusha Chalise is a communication and development scholar specialising in how politics is experienced in the digital space.

Ayusha Chalise

Cyberia

Democracy in the manosphere

It was inspiring for me here in Norway to read Radhesh Pant’s Guest Editorial in Nepali Times on 4 February titled ‘A Chance for Nepal’s Political Renewal’.
Now the time has come, we hope. Youth groups have decided to stand firm in the process of making Nepal a more democratic society. They are concerned, they have the competence and talent, and they are dedicated.&nbsp;
For many years, I have followed the ups and downs of Nepal's politics: the re-introduction of multi-party democracy in 1990 allowing civil society organisations, the Maoist insurgency ending in 1996, the palace shooting in 2001, king Gyanendra abdicating in 2006, Nepal becoming a republic in 2008, and the ratification of the new Constitution in 2015. Right up to the demonstrations and violence in September last year.
All these upheavals took place in Nepal within just over three decades. Defining democracy as a system in which every citizen can vote, we must remember that it took 100 years for many European countries to become democracies, in some countries even longer.&nbsp;
Norway is one example of the latter: after 400 years as a Danish colony, Norway was an autonomous country (except for foreign affairs) in a union with Sweden, meaning we had a common king with Sweden, but a Parliament with Norwegians.&nbsp;
This status changed in 1814, Parliament gathered at an estate north of the capital to declare independence from Sweden and pass a new Constitution – it could be called a silent coup d’etat.&nbsp;
Norwegian women obtained the right to vote only in 1913. It took us 400 years to become independent country, and nearly a century for its citizens to obtain the right to vote.
A democratic process therefore can last long, it is filled with frustration, anger, optimism, pessimism. In Nepal, I have noticed all these emotions, in the media as well as among people.&nbsp;
Since 1999, I have been fortunate to meet Nepalis, many of whom have become good friends, who have told me about personal experiences and their views on politics and on local conditions.&nbsp;
Nepal is a complex society, and many aspects are still difficult for me to understand. But I do indeed feel confident to agree with Radhesh Pant that political renewal in Nepal is possible.
GLOBAL AUTOCRATISATION&nbsp;
Elections alone do not guarantee a functional democracy, however, and Nepal is not the only country that must cope with political and social challenges – just look at historical and recent events throughout the world today.&nbsp;
Corruption has been a stubborn challenge in countries on every continent, reducing people’s trust in politicians and the political system. Power sharing cannot be taken for granted any more, political and administrative decisions are made without concern for the rule of law, and autocratic leaders contribute to public institutions being broken down from within.&nbsp;
In the US and Europe, migration has become a polarising issue and has stoked conflict among citizens which can be exploited for political gain by populists to navigate among power positions.
With all this happening, it is encouraging to observe that citizens, especially the young generation, are mobilising against such trends and to save democracy.&nbsp;
The GenZ movement in Nepal followed youth uprisings in Bangladesh, Indonesia, and Nepal itself was followed by similar ones in Thailand, Morocco, as well as in other parts of the world – just a few weeks ago, also in Albania.
The election on 5 March, and the negotiations that will inevitably following to form a government with clear policies for the future will be an indication that our optimism is well founded, and that every Nepali – young and old, poor and rich, male and female living in the centre and periphery -- will obtain better possibilities to participate in political decision-making.
Ultimately, this will make it possible for Nepalis to improve their social condition, as well as contributing to their country’s democratic development. &nbsp;
Marit Bakke is a retired Professor of Sociology. Since 1984, she has been in Nepal regularly, to collaborate academically with Nepalis, including as a member of the International Board of Patan Academy of Health Sciences &nbsp;(PAHS).

Letter from Norway

Early on Monday morning, a bus from Pokhara to Kathmandu plunged off the highway in Dhading killing 19 passengers. Two weeks ago, another bus fell into the Tama Kosi in Manthali, killing 12. A few days before that a bus crash in Baitadi killed 13 people.&nbsp; In just the month before Nepal's election, more than 50 people have been killed in road traffic accidents. Most of these cannot be called 'accidents'. They are a direct result of poorly maintained highways and lack of enforcement of traffic discipline. Political parties in Nepal have rolled out their election manifestos, and voters are once again presented with a flood of promises. Page after page, these documents list megawatts and microcredit, highways and airports, jobs and investment. In these manifestos, growth is quantified, projects itemised, revenue forecast — and there are even threats to beat up contractors who do not finish their jobs. But when everything is declared a priority the stale promises are empty. The voter is left confused as to where the party’s loyalties really lie. Will any of these plans and pledges actually ever materialise and help Nepalis live longer, safer, healthier lives? The main job of any accountable government is to protect its citizens, not so much from foreign enemies but from domestic mismanagement. And this means the most basic test the new government should be made to pass is whether it can ensure basic well-being and protection for all its people. The problems of safety, health, and survival remain unresolved for most Nepalis, and are quietly eroding their lives. In the past year alone, the country’s <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/roadkill">roads and highways claimed more than 2,300</a> lives. An estimated 41,000 Nepalis die each year directly because of <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/what-is-invisible-is-more-dangerous">air pollution</a>, and their <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/air-pollution-killing-season-starts-early">lifespans are lessened by 3.4 years</a>.&nbsp; <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/poor-health">Non-communicable diseases</a> now account for well over half of total deaths in the country. And even where survival has improved, deprivation remains. Chronic malnutrition continues to haunt communities in <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/mass-migration-from-muktikot">Nepal’s western mountains</a> despite progress in maternal and child health.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260223130240_4f4ef83a31c3c4ae36ecdffb33a355e2fa3de9e98244b840a895af2d95c35ac0.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20260223130240_4f4ef83a31c3c4ae36ecdffb33a355e2fa3de9e98244b840a895af2d95c35ac0" data-rendition-name="original" width="1024" height="683" loading="lazy" alt="A life-first manifesto for Nepal NT"> </figure>  These are the lived realities of most Nepalis, and it is here that development can deliver its most immediate returns. A rising GDP, in and of itself, does not make roads safer, clean polluted air, or provide enough nutrition to children. Such outcomes demand intentional, granular policies that confront the specific, everyday problems shaping people’s lives.&nbsp; Macroeconomic growth, trade and investment are important, but these alone cannot guarantee improvements health and safety. The word ‘growth’, after all, is also synonymous with malignancy. Economic progress and human protection are correlated only when governance deliberately links them. Impact on life is the unit in which ordinary Nepalis calculate progress. What is needed, then, is a governing philosophy measurable in these same terms: a ‘life-first’ standard where every policy, budget, and reform can be understood and judged by its impact on protecting and extending human life. Such a ‘life-first’ approach would scrutinise three aspects of every policy. First, whether the policy prevents loss of life. A death is termed preventable if better, more coordinated response systems and regulations could have avoided it (vaccines, drugs, road safety, clean drinking water). A newly built six-lane highway <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/highway-accidents-are-no-accident-in-nepal">can be a death trap</a> due to poor design or lax enforcement of safety rules. If neonatal deaths continue in a district despite hospitals being present, or if malnutrition claims lives in predominantly agricultural regions, they too are failures. Preventable deaths also cluster where accountability is less direct. Just last year, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/suicides-a-pandemic-within-a-pandemic">Nepal recorded 6,866 suicides</a>, with nearly 20 lives lost every day, yet these deaths fail to prompt any serious examination of governance. The same holds for fatalities linked to domestic or communal violence, alcohol and substance misuse, or ‘natural’ disasters, which register as ‘tragedies without remedy’ rather than as outcomes policy can influence. But when avoidable loss of life recurs at scale, isolated incidents become patterns, and patterns reveal systemic neglect. Saving lives, however, is only the first step, and what matters just as much is the quality of years lived. Nepal’s life expectancy now stands at 71 years, yet many citizens spend years in avoidable disability, untreated chronic illness, or mental distress. A life- first government must ask not only whether people live, but whether they thrive. Are citizens able to pursue education, work, and family life without fear of preventable harm? Do communities have access to clean air and water, nutritious food, and basic healthcare? Can a teenager anywhere in Nepal imagine a future not foreclosed by premature marriage, or untreated depression?  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260223130240_157d72b80b82a07699b6bffbb30036b86f0f767a5674cc3db3d5c20343442940.jpg" data-media-id="editor_8" data-image-id="20260223130240_157d72b80b82a07699b6bffbb30036b86f0f767a5674cc3db3d5c20343442940" data-rendition-name="original" width="2529" height="1427" loading="lazy" alt="A life-first manifesto for Nepal NT"> </figure>  Thriving requires policies that prevent suffering and promote well-being in addition to ensuring survival.&nbsp; Finally, governance must consider graceful aging. Elderly Nepalis should not be left to navigate disease, poverty, or isolation alone. Social systems, healthcare, and community support must enable their continued participation and dignified well-being. Adopting this three-layered standard would gradually reorient how success of any new government is defined. Transportation would be judged by fatalities reduced on the roads. Electricity generation would be measured by whether households can switch from firewood dependence to smoke-free electric stoves.&nbsp; Increase in annual rice harvest must translate into better nutrition, reducing the prevalence of chronic diseases like diabetes. Accountability must follow problems rather than stop at Singha Darbar. Only then will politicians and bureaucrats eventually recognise that their work converges on the same human endpoint. Critics will argue that economies are complex, trade-offs are inevitable, and that governance cannot be reduced to a single metric.But, as Acemoglu and Robinson show in their book <a href="https://ia801506.us.archive.org/27/items/WhyNationsFailTheOriginsODaronAcemoglu/Why-Nations-Fail_-The-Origins-o-Daron-Acemoglu.pdf">Why Nations Fail</a>, the key difference between prosperity and poverty lies in inclusive institutions that empower citizens and create broad incentives for well-being.&nbsp; Extractive institutions concentrate power and wealth in the hands of a few while keeping the majority trapped in neglect. Nepal’s governance has remained a striking example of extraction. If lawmakers in the new Parliament continue to resist changes that would save and improve the lives of ordinary citizens, the same systemic rot will persist for generations to come. A life-first mentality can cut through this inertia by clarifying the moral centre of governance and reminding policymakers that behind every policy failure lies human cost. <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/epicentre-of-hunger">Every mother in Bajura</a> with a child going hungry at night, every farmer in the Madhes unable to afford medical care, and every family that has lost <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/comment/saving-kidneys-to-save-nepal">a migrant son to kidney failure</a> understands the true <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/multimedia/dirty-dangerous-difficult-and-dehydrating">value of a life saved</a>. Life is the one metric that transcends ideology, ethnicity, and region. Centering governance on this single, focused metric, can shift an election from a contest of rhetoric to a contest of evidence. Which party ensured access to safe water and basic healthcare? Which made work at home and abroad safer and less exploitative. Which measurably extended healthy years of life for ordinary citizens? Health is wealth. By improving the healthy lifespan of citizens economic prosperity would follow naturally. A ‘life-first’ governance model would therefore compel Nepal to address the underlying structural failures across all sectors, rather than merely alleviating their symptoms. The GenZ protest that toppled the government last September was, at its core, a demand for accountability and a rejection of politics as usual. But as the country edges closer to the polls, that clarity has started to dissipate. Parties are now echoing the language of reform, but the public discourse remains dominated by promises that feel disconnected from Nepal’s most immediate and basic priorities. Every preventable death, every hungry child, and every neglected elder becomes a direct failure of governance and a moral debt the state must answer for. It is how we can make sure we keep the next government in check. The writers are Nepali GenZ students of biomedical engineering at the Hong Kong Polytechnic University.

Guest Editorial

Nepal’s life or death election

AI is coming for ‘content’ -- everything from advertising and novels to movies and journalism. The result is likely to be simultaneously horrific, wonderful, depressing and exciting. There will be not only creative destruction, but also lots of plain old destruction.
Having spent most of my adult life producing research, journalism and documentaries, as well as consuming escapist novels and movies, I have great sympathy for creators.&nbsp;
But for the past three years, I have been an investor and venture capitalist in AI, and this experience has shaped the message I would offer to everyone in journalism, publishing, music, advertising and Hollywood: you ignore the potential of this technology at your peril.
First, consider the prospects for film and television industry which have been contracting for years, owing to the new forms of media delivery (streaming) enabled by the internet, laptops, tablets and mobile phones.&nbsp;
The decline of cable TV and DVDs reflects a variety of factors, including video streaming, the rise of user-generated content, the democratisation of creation through inexpensive cameras and software, and the resulting competition for eyeballs from YouTube, Facebook and TikTok.
Yet throughout this decade of painful contraction, the fundamental techniques of video production did not change much. You still used real cameras to film real people and things.
Soon, though, all these real-world inputs will be obsolete, replaced by AI. The pioneers of this new world will be, without exception, startups, some of them less than a year old.&nbsp;
The $600 billion digital advertising industry is next. The leading startup in AI commercials, Higgsfield, was founded only in 2023, but its business has exploded, with revenues doubling every month, on track to exceed $1 billion this year.
DAY AFTER TOMORROW
The AI revolution is coming to the arts and the carnage in legacy industries will be awful. What the day after will look like, however, is a far more complicated question.
Personally, as a once and future filmmaker, I am excited about AI filmmaking. I would love to be able to write treatments and screenplays, feed them to my AI ‘studio’, get back a good rough cut and then hone and hone with AI until I have exactly the film I want to make, with every character, setting, movement, line of dialogue and camera angle perfect.&nbsp;
There is, however, an urgent need for new laws, system and institutions to protect intellectual property and its creators. The most discussed issue is the very real need to compensate traditional creators whose prior work is being used to train AI models. But there is also a need to protect AI creators and creations.
Far more frightening is what is happening to nonfiction — news, information sources and reference services. Here, we are already witnessing the blurring of the boundaries to the point of indistinguishability between fact and fabrication.&nbsp;
While the AI era of art excites me more than it worries me, the balance is different in the realm of truth and reality. As much as there is to celebrate, I am terrified by what AI might bring.
Journalism, like Hollywood, has already contracted. The internet forced daily newspapers, weekly magazines, radio and television news all into the same market, it destroyed the classified advertising revenues that newspapers depended on, and it spawned thousands of low-quality new entrants.
To be sure, after multiple near-death experiences, a small number of high-quality English-language news organisations emerged even stronger and with larger global audiences than before: the New York Times, the Financial Times, the Guardian, Bloomberg News, the Economist, Politico and the Reuters and AP wire services. But these outlets reach only a small minority of the population. They are also expensive to produce and their finances are fragile.
The most frequently discussed issue is AI deepfakes. These are indeed a huge problem, considering that YouTube, Facebook, Snap, X and TikTok face few obligations with regard to truth or accuracy. Soon, it will be possible to synthesise nearly undetectable fake versions of almost anyone and almost any event.
Even the most carefully trained AI models can be misused and some open-source AI models have no controls whatsoever. Yet at the same time, AI has greatly improved the quality of news and information available to the public, at least for anyone interested enough to look.&nbsp;
The major models (mainly OpenAI, Anthropic and Google), and many value-added services enabled by them, are now remarkably good. Hallucination is still a problem, but far less so than even a year ago.
Already, AI models provide a miraculous portal to knowledge for more than a billion users. I use Perplexity at least a dozen times a day, and I used it repeatedly in writing this essay — far more often than I referred to legacy publications (or Google Search).
Similarly, there has been an explosion of specialised AI services, including reference resources for lawyers, scientists, doctors, patients and now also AI therapists.&nbsp;
But there is a dark side. AI models do not create knowledge. They harvest and distribute knowledge superbly, but they are totally dependent on information created by others. We (and the models) still need Politico, the New York Times, the Financial Times, AP, Reuters and the whole world of news organisations. They alone have commissioning editors, full-time journalists and fact-checkers while AI models do not hire investigative journalists or war correspondents willing to take risks.
Yet as much as AI models depend on legacy journalism, they also profoundly threaten it in at least two ways. As in the case of Hollywood, these threats are further amplified by the fact that the legacy industry isn’t paying attention.
The first problem is direct competition. If you want to know something specific, or want to stay current with some issue, you don’t need a news publication anymore; you can just ask a model. Moreover, the currently available models can answer many questions that the news organisations cannot. Perhaps worst of all, they are cheaper — much cheaper. For individual users, they typically charge $10 per month, whereas the New York Times typically costs about $25 per month.
The AI models have a cost advantage in part because they can amortize their fixed costs across huge numbers of users. But they also benefit greatly from not paying for most of the information they use.
Currently, there is a strong moral and practical argument being made for forcing model vendors to compensate creators fairly. But this will probably require new court decisions or new laws. In the meantime, there is a very real risk that unless news organisations, journalists, writers and documentary filmmakers are compensated sufficiently, the AI industry will eventually kill the very sources on which it depends to provide accurate results.
This brings us to the second problem posed by AI: the potential destruction of trustworthy news sources as a result of overwhelming pollution from AI junk and fraud. Innumerable AI services will arise and even the major foundation models and the most careful news organisations might be degraded by skillful AI fakery that cannot be distinguished from reality. So far, the models have been trained on reality; but soon, most training ‘content’ will be AI-generated.
One can hope that news organisations will wake up, that courts and legislatures and popular demand will force AI companies to compensate journalists and researchers fairly, and that AI will give rise to a new industry of high-quality journalism. © Project Syndicate, 2026
Charles Ferguson is a technology investor, policy analyst and documentary filmmaker, including the Oscar-winning Inside Job.

AI takeover of all media

Chronic winter drought and decades of unmanaged forest biomass have turned wildfires into a systemic risk for Nepal. We need to re-learn to convert fire fuel in forests into fertilizer for crops.&nbsp; On 11 January, a huge forest fire spread rapidly from China into the forests of Sindhupalchok, 40km northeast of Kathmandu. The newly-opened Tatopani border checkpoint was closed. Smoke from the fire spread across central Nepal, blocking the sun.&nbsp; The fire burnt itself out within a few days, but the border stayed closed for longer. Such wildfires were once rare in mid-winter, and traditionally peaked between March and May as temperatures rose ahead of pre-monsoon showers. What is unsettling is not just the early onset of the fires, but also their scale. This shift is not accidental, the pattern has been unfolding over years due to winter drought, weakening post-monsoon moisture, and the accumulation of dry forest biomass as Nepal’s forest area doubled in the past 30 years.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026022009024_5f4a84bb389f9b56f4fa47d4f694adcd464eb13b192d184af0f1eb20efdfeebf.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="2026022009024_5f4a84bb389f9b56f4fa47d4f694adcd464eb13b192d184af0f1eb20efdfeebf" data-rendition-name="original" width="2000" height="1055" loading="lazy" alt="Wildfire season NT"> <figcaption>A NASA FIRMS image of Nepal with red dots signifying fires in February 2025.</figcaption> </figure>  Together, these factors have made forests tinder dry in spring, just waiting for a spark. Nepal has experienced winter drought in eight of the past ten years (this winter was an exception). Winter rain and snow at higher elevations play a decisive role in maintaining surface moisture, recharging shallow aquifers, and keeping forest floors damp enough to resist ignition. When winter rains fail, forests dry out months earlier than usual. Satellite-based assessments show a steep decline in surface moisture across the middle mountains of Nepal, particularly in areas with dense forest cover but limited undergrowth management. Springs that once flowed year-round are now seasonal.&nbsp; More than half of the springs in the mid-hills have either dried up or show significantly reduced discharge, a trend closely linked to declining soil moisture and disrupted recharge zones. Dry soil does not just threaten water security — it helps the vegetation ignite. FUEL WITHOUT FUNCTION For decades, Nepal’s forests have been accumulating dry leaf litter, fallen branches, shrubs, and deadwood. Historically, this biomass was not considered waste because rural households regularly collected leaf litter for livestock bedding, which was later composted and returned to farms as fertilizer.&nbsp; Forest floors were therefore relatively clean while the mulch fertilized farms. That relationship has steadily eroded due to outmigration, changes in livestock systems, restrictions on access to community forests, and the growing availability of chemical fertilisers.&nbsp; Community forests across the country today are thick with dry twigs, branches and leaves — a highly combustible carpet. When prolonged drought dries this biomass, even a small spark from a herder’s intentional fire, a cigarette, or lightning strike can trigger massive fires.&nbsp; Under such conditions, the question is no longer whether fires will occur, but how intense and widespread they will be. Forest fires are often framed as an environmental issue concerning trees and wildlife. In reality, their impact extends far beyond forest boundaries.&nbsp; Smoke travels faster and further than flames. Fine particulate matter, especially harmful PM2.5, spreads across countries. In recent fire seasons, air quality monitors in Kathmandu have recorded air quality levels several times higher than WHO guidelines. The smoke adds to Kathmandu’s own pollution and lingers for days.&nbsp; Flights are cancelled or delayed in cities like Pokhara, and poor visibility blocks mountain views affecting tourism. Health facilities report spikes in respiratory complaints, particularly among children and the elderly. Just as wildfires have multi-sectoral causes, the impact of forest fires go beyond forests. One critical dimension remains largely invisible: the soil. The fires cause silent damage beneath the ash, and the emergency does not end when the flames subside. Beneath the surface, soil suffers long-term damage. Organic matter burns away, beneficial microorganisms die. The soil structure weakens, reducing the land’s ability to absorb and retain water. The scorched earth is more prone to erosion, increasing the risk of floods and landslides once the rains return.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026022009028_cc54ff056b2cac8b789cfd4d11afef9eaf943368e47b99aabd57c7b63b776cf2.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="2026022009028_cc54ff056b2cac8b789cfd4d11afef9eaf943368e47b99aabd57c7b63b776cf2" data-rendition-name="original" width="1717" height="2143" loading="lazy" alt="Wildfire season NT"> <figcaption>Wildfire risk map based on the validated Random Forest model (a) Overall reclassified wildfire risk map of Nepal, (b) District level wildfire risk, and (c) Municipality wildfire risk map.</figcaption> </figure>  In many of Nepal’s agricultural areas, soil organic matter levels are already below 2% -- lower than what is needed for resilient and productive farming. Repeated fires push these levels even lower, undermining soil fertility and forcing farmers to rely more heavily on chemical fertilisers, unleashing a vicious cycle of higher costs and food insecurity.&nbsp; Climate breakdown is often cited as the primary culprit, and rightly so. Rising temperatures and erratic rainfall have intensified fire risk. But fires in Nepal are increasingly the result of human intervention.&nbsp; The response of all three levels of government remains too little, and too reactive. Each year, resources are mobilised to extinguish fires once they have already spread. Far less attention is paid to managing the fuel load within forest undergrowth that makes such fires inevitable.&nbsp; Meanwhile, forestry and agriculture policies are not coordinated, missing opportunities to address shared challenges. Forest fires are not natural disasters, but predictable outcomes of governance choices. National plans and climate pledges set an ambitious target of raising soil organic matter to 4%. The science behind this goal is solid. Higher organic matter improves water retention, stabilises yields, reduces fertiliser dependence, and enhances long-term food security. What remains unclear is the pathway.&nbsp; Where will the organic inputs come from? How will they be processed and applied safely at scale? Without practical answers, the 4% target risks remaining aspirational rather than achievable. Forest undergrowth can be turned into fuel and fertiliser. Biochar is produced by heating organic biomass in a low-oxygen environment, converting it into a stable form of carbon that can be added to soil.&nbsp; When properly produced and applied, it improves soil structure, enhances water and nutrient retention, supports microbial activity, and locks carbon into the ground for decades. In Nepal biochar addresses two interconnected problems: reducing the accumulation of combustible biomass in forests, lowering fire risk, while simultaneously rebuilding depleted soils. In doing so, it restores the broken link between forest management and agriculture.&nbsp; Done well, biochar is not merely an environmental intervention. It is an economic one, with potential to create local employment, reduce farmers’ input costs, and support climate-smart agriculture. But biochar propagation depends on improved governance. If promoted as isolated pilots or short-term projects, it will fail. What is needed is institutional clarity: standards for production and safety, quality control mechanisms, farmer extension services, and coordination across local, provincial, and federal levels.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026022009028_e6e2218f38fae5b1fe81d9f99078fe01f58d04b4b3b2c41447f017c3f838a1d4.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="2026022009028_e6e2218f38fae5b1fe81d9f99078fe01f58d04b4b3b2c41447f017c3f838a1d4" data-rendition-name="original" width="1536" height="2048" loading="lazy" alt="Wildfire season NT"> <figcaption>Freshly prepared biochar under control tempature (350-600°C).</figcaption> </figure>  Community forest user groups could manage biomass collection. Local governments then support safe, decentralised production units. Agricultural extension services guide farmers on application, linked to soil testing and monitoring. Such an approach would reduce fire risk, improve soil health, and generate rural livelihoods.&nbsp; Poorly produced biochar or contaminated feedstock can harm soils and human health. Without training, standards, and oversight, good intentions can backfire. Nepal needs to move beyond fire-fighting to fire prevention and confront the structural causes that make them a growing risk. It is not just a technical choice – it is one that demands political will from newly-elected leaders after March. &nbsp;&nbsp; Ngamindra Dahal is a hydrometeorologist with the Nepal Water Conservation Foundation specialising on climate and water management issues.&nbsp;

RED ALERT: Get ready for the wildfire season

<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/what-the-interim-government-gave-bangladesh">Bangladesh’s 12 February election</a> carried historic weight because it was held in the aftermath of the July 2024 student-led uprising that ended the long-running regime of the Awami League’s Sheikh Hasina.
Alongside the parliamentary contest, voters were asked to decide on an additional ballot referendum known as the ‘July Charter’, a proposal linked to constitutional and administrative reform debates.
I served as an independent international observer from Nepal, authorised by the Election Commission of Bangladesh and observed polling day procedures in selected centres outside Dhaka, intentionally moving beyond the capital city which was the focus of the international media and diplomatic community. We visited 17 polling stations in remote Bancharampur and Gazipur constituencies.
The Bangladesh Election Commission’s emphasis on technology was evident. Upazila Police personnel deployed for election duty were equipped with body-cams, and there were more CCTVs Police personnel deployed for election duty were equipped with body-cams, and there were more CCTVs at several polling centres. These measures reflected an effort to enhance transparency and accountability.
For the first time, the Election Commission reportedly created a WhatsApp coordination group that included human rights defenders and security officials. This group enables rapid information-sharing and prompt security responses to potential incidents.&nbsp;
Bangladesh introduced postal voting for citizens abroad who had not renounced their citizenship. The postal ballots were processed and counted with QR code technology. Similar arrangements to vote by mail were also made for government employees who could not go their home constituencies. This gave voters respect of their ballots and franchise.
Youth participation in this election was significant. Many first-time voters expressed enthusiasm and a strong sense of ownership over the democratic process. Their turnout and visible engagement suggested a generation keenly interested in shaping the country’s political direction.
Women voters were also notably active. In multiple centres, women formed long queues and appeared confident about navigating the voting process. Minority community members were also present. Precautionary measures had been taken to thwart any disruption.
In the polling centres mostly located in schools, the overall environment was calm, orderly, and peaceful. Election materials were properly arranged, voting compartments ensured procedural clarity, and no major disruptions or visible irregularities were observed in the centres covered.&nbsp;
Security personnel were present but maintained a non-intrusive posture, contributing to a sense of order without interfering in the voting process.
Polling officials demonstrated familiarity with procedures, including voter identification and ballot issuance protocols. In informal conversations, station in-charges articulated procedural steps clearly and appeared confident in managing operations.&nbsp;
Queue management systems were generally in place, and voter verification processes were conducted in an organised manner. While observations were geographically limited, the professionalism of officials in the visited centers contributed positively to polling efficiency.
The vote counting was carried out promptly. Polling booths were required to send recorded data of the ballots cast directly, which significantly streamlined and expedited the counting process.
Despite the generally smooth procedures, certain accessibility challenges were observed. Senior citizens, lactating mothers, and individuals who appeared physically unwell were seen waiting in queues for extended periods. Priority mechanisms for vulnerable groups were not consistently visible across all centres.
Polling officials estimated turnouts between 50-60%, reflecting mid-day assessments rather than final figures. Voter flow remained steady but the ban on the former ruling party may have dampened some of the voter turnout.
What stood out most was the broader public mood. Many voters appeared motivated and engaged, particularly given the country’s recent political developments. Elections are not merely procedural exercises; they reflect citizens’ aspirations, expectations, and trust in institutional processes.
One of the most distinctive features of this election was the referendum on the ‘July Charter’. In some polling centres, this additional ballot appeared to generate confusion. A number of voters indicated they understood they needed to mark ‘Yes’ or ‘No’, yet some were unclear about the substance of the proposal.&nbsp;
Many younger voters seemed better informed about the implications of the referendum. Their engagement suggested that civic awareness surrounding reform debates may be evolving generationally. The referendum element added a constitutional dimension to what was already a politically significant parliamentary election.
LESSONS FOR NEPAL
Nepal also goes to the polls on 5 March, six months after its own student-led protests in September. Several of the practices seen in Bangladesh could be relevant.&nbsp;
Bangladesh has made notable strides in electoral reform and administrative efficiency, creating a sense that the country has taken a meaningful step forward in improving the accessibility and management of its electoral process.
Polling day was a crucial indicator of administrative preparedness and civic participation. The Bangladesh election illustrated both strengths and areas for continued civic education, especially regarding public understanding of referendum questions. Youth engagement, women’s participation, and enhanced security coordination were encouraging signs.
Historic elections shape nations. They also leave a lasting impression on those privileged to observe them closely. Democratic consolidation is an incremental process. Orderly procedures, technological monitoring, and visible participation reflect institutional maturity. At the same time, inclusivity particularly for vulnerable groups remains an essential benchmark.
Mohna Ansari is an advocate, a practicing lawyer at the Supreme Court and Former Commissioner of National Human Rights Commission of Nepal. She was a member of the International Election Observer team from Nepal.
Local observer Muzaffar Hossain Chaudhary also contributed.

Bangladesh’s post-uprising election

Nepali Congress (NC) President Gagan Thapa's candidacy in Sarlahi-4 has thrust this Madhes constituency into rare national focus. If Thapa wins and the NC emerges as the largest party, Sarlahi-4 will send Nepal's next prime minister to Parliament. But if he does not, Nepal’s grand old party will face the next years in the opposition to fight another day. There is a troubling paradox in Sarlahi-4 where the district bordering the Indian state of Bihar has been a battleground for national politicians with fierce electoral competition, all while remaining one of the region's most underserved and underdeveloped constituencies.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260305140344_069cbbc11e971a851b444866dee57f760c0cc611ed40bdf96c627e343e3c0485.png" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20260305140344_069cbbc11e971a851b444866dee57f760c0cc611ed40bdf96c627e343e3c0485" data-rendition-name="original" width="1802" height="1276" loading="lazy" alt="Sarlahi-4 voting"> <figcaption>Photo: MADHES PAHARA MEDIA</figcaption> </figure>  Ever since Mahant Thakur split from NC in 2008 to form the Tarai Madhes Loktantrik Party, the district has seen rotating political alliances and fragmented votes. Yet, despite 18 years of candidates promising change irrigation schemes remain incomplete, market access for farmers has not improved, unemployment is high.&nbsp; On election day, voters here marked their ballots with fingers stained by dye from the Holi festival the day before. The road leading to Barathawa Bazar was deserted for the most part, except for some youth riding in motorcycles. This is where the high-profile contest between Gagan Thapa and RSP nominee Amresh Singh is being staged. Among the other aspirants is 27-year-old UML candidate Amnish Yadav, the son of former MP Shiv Pujan Yadav. The Yadavs are a political family with considerable caste influence in the constituency. In 2022 Yadav’s daughter Madhumala Yadav received over 14,000 votes here, ranking third overall. Yadav was voted MP from the Maoist party, but defected to the UML this time. His other son is the chair of Sarlahi’s Ramnagar Rural Municipality. Sarhali-4 has 121,012 voters, and the Yadav is banking on the 27,000-strong Yadav vote bank. Sarlahi-4 voter Avishek Sah told us he wanted his vote to go to a young nominee and not someone who has been MP thrice already, like Amresh Singh. &nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260305140344_527c5c2f9aa6a6c7e3bbdfbfe79fdafb0a0b56a62427e9ced86b924c6c563b10.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20260305140344_527c5c2f9aa6a6c7e3bbdfbfe79fdafb0a0b56a62427e9ced86b924c6c563b10" data-rendition-name="original" width="1200" height="1600" loading="lazy" alt="Sarlahi-4 voting"> <figcaption>Photo: AYUSHA CHALISE</figcaption> </figure>  To make local loyalties even more complicated, Amnish Yadav’s uncle, Harinder Yadav is an active NC member and walked side by side with Gagan Thapa during his door-to-door campaigns.&nbsp; The NC is betting on Thapa getting over 60% of the total votes. Amresh Singh’s tally could be limited to 10,000 votes — that too because of the nationwide RSP wave, and the popularity of its prime ministerial hopeful Balendra (Balen) Shah. “Amresh Singh lost his appeal when he played victim after he was denied a ticket by the NC in 2022,” Harinder Yadav says. Voters we spoke to here agreed with this assessment that Singh did not do much for the district once he got elected in the past, and being a part of the RSP seems to be his biggest asset. “The only reason I voted for Amresh Singh is because Balen is in RSP,” local voter Mahendra Gupta from Barathawa. &nbsp;“This is his last chance to return the people’s trust.”&nbsp; Gupta is aware of the institutional presence of the NC here. The party received the most votes in 2022 local elections, adding that the candidacy of someone as high-profile as Thapa is a positive sign for Sarlahi-4.&nbsp; Other voters like Ruby Gupta are rooting for both the NC and the RSP. “I will vote for Gagan and for Balen,” she says, adding that her FPTP vote will go to Thapa while her PR ballot would be for the RSP. RSP supporters are confident that their candidate will win big because even though many voters may not have openly voiced their support they still voted for the party and candidate. The Balen Wave was not limited to RSP voters, but also to UML candidate Yadav, who said in a gathering that he will be “the voters Balen” if they elect him. He touted his party’s track record in government, and largely campaigned on administrative efficiency, infrastructural expansion, and local service delivery. Amresh Singh ran on the RSP’s anti-establishment brand, promising to fight corruption, challenge traditional party politics, improve basic services such as education, health, jobs, and infrastructure, while pushing for stronger representation and development for Madhes.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260305140344_982df01801fa7d3532ca0555ecb8a0756e3223be3d93650e08ca82a312dc2ebd.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20260305140344_982df01801fa7d3532ca0555ecb8a0756e3223be3d93650e08ca82a312dc2ebd" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="1200" loading="lazy" alt="Sarlahi-4 voting"> <figcaption>Photo:AYUSHA CHALISE</figcaption> </figure>  Singh’s rivalry with his NC competitor goes beyond the ballot— he allegedly blames Thapa for being denied the NC ticket in 2022, which led him to win the election from Sarlahi-4 as an independent. &nbsp; For his part, Gagan Thapa focused on a more pragmatic development agenda that includes upgrading roads and irrigation, improving schools and hospitals, supporting farmers, and creating employment opportunities with improved governance at the centre. He also promised to build an engineering college in the constituency.&nbsp; Thapa also promoted his own anti-establishment image within the NC, repeatedly reminding voters on the campaign trail that he represents the aspirations of the youth.&nbsp; On Thursday, as voting progressed, there were violent disruptions in two centres where voting was briefly halted. But Sarlahi district police spokesperson Saroj Rai told Nepali Times that there were no major problems. Police in collaboration with the Nepal Army sent the ballot papers to the district’s counting stations, where the votes are expected to be tallied through the night and the winner announced Friday morning.

Sarlahi-4 nervously watches ballot count

As this report is uploaded, the latest results in Nepal’s election show that the Rastriya Swatantra Party (RSP) is headed for an even bigger sweep than most had predicted.
The RSP was leading by large margins in 49 of 165 constituencies, &nbsp;with the UML, NC and NCP trailing far behind. Prominent political figures from the old parties like K P Oli, Minwndra Prasad Rijal, Ishwar Pokhrel, Bishnu Prasad Poudel, Bimalendra Nidhi all seem headed for defeat.
It does look like the RSP’s bell election symbol is ringing right across Nepal — from cities to the remotest districts in the mountains and plains. The party’s blue colour is sweeping the land.
The Nepali people seem to have sent a clear message that they were throughly dissatisfied with the chronic failure of the three main parties to work in the national interest to create jobs and deliver development. It was also an expression of lingering outrage over the the 8 September massacre outside Parliament. &nbsp;
It now looks almost certain that Balendra Shah will get to be Nepal’s next, and youngest, prime minister. Hopefully he will be leading a cabinet of competent and honest technocrats. It remains to seen how the power equation between Shah and the RSP’s leader, Rabi Lamichhane will play out.
Lamichhane is out of jail on bail for fraud cases which he has called political vendetta by the previous regime. Both he and Shah are charismatic and ambitious. Their working relationship will determine Nepal's political stability and whether it can avoid the political cronyism of the past.
This election was not just about casting votes. It was about standing up to principles and a value system, and respecting the hopes and aspirations of Nepal’s youth. It to push for transparent government and against impunity — including for the gunning down of young Nepalis in cold blood.
<div class="embed-block"><iframe src="https://election-geo-dashboard.pages.dev/" width="100%" height="600" frameborder="0"> </iframe>Live election results as winners of candidates are announced.</div>
CAN DO MAN
Shah got mixed reviews as mayor. He was impulsive and ad hoc, but most people inKathmandu and beyond liked his can-do attitude and unconventional style which stood in sharp contract to the legacy leaders. Over his three year mayorship he showed more maturity and planning capacity.&nbsp;
But he always ran headlong into opposition from the federal government over his urban planning and other initiatives to make Kathmandu more liveable. Coming from a civil and structural engineering background, he was involved in building low-cost housing after the 2015 earthquake.
But his public persona is more tied to his irreverent rap lyrics that stood up for the marginalised underprivileged in society, while exposing the high-handedness and apathy of the state. But this also exposed contradictions because he also used his own municipal guards to beat and chase away street vendors and squatters.
But there is no doubt that a combination of the sharp messaging in his rap videos amplified by the algorithms of social media ignited Nepal’s youth to rise up. It was more about optics and emotion than policy and strategy.
He studied Kathmandu district for five years, visiting experts in every field before announcing his independent candidacy for mayor in 2022. Many like me in his own constitunecy did not know who he was and where he came from.
He is a year younger than my architect son, and I saw in him a reflection of my own son’s commitment to serving the nation. I voted for him to be mayor despite his sometimes erratic behaviour, which could be attributed to his youth.
The best sign of his strategic planning, which unsettled septuagenarian and octogenarian politicians, is the he did not grab the first easy option of becoming prime minister in September when GenZ activists offered him the post.&nbsp;
Joining RSP was a masterstroke, as was his challenge to Oli in Jhapa to project national branding. He needed a party platform and Lamichhane needed a popular prime ministerial persona since he himself could not hold the post.
Shah has shown the capacity to take risks when he believes the value justifies the action for the country. Now, he will have to show more strategic thinking on a national scale, as well as understand the delicate geopolitics of Nepal.&nbsp;
He must rise above the kind of crude social media posts that earned him followers on X, but did nothing to erase his erratic and impulsive image.&nbsp;
Some assume that behind his trademark RayBan shades is a closet dictator, and his past remarks about Hitler are still up on social media. He has in the past shown impatience with criticism, unleashing supporters on social media to troll detractors.&nbsp;
Even so, the public seems willing to place their hope on an educated young man with integrity and a proven record for planning at the helm. By tomorrow it will be clear whether the hope Nepalis have held has been fulfilled, and the coming years will show if the RSP will lead Nepalis to a better future.
The voters seem to have shown the door even to the NC despite the fact that under Gagan Thapa, the party had turned a new leaf. A strong government under Prime Minister Balendra Shah heading a carefully selected cabinet and a strong opposition of the NC, UML and other parties for check and balance may be just what we need for a stable Nepal.&nbsp;
Nepalis have collectively always shown maturity in elections. This time they have given a resounding endorsement for integrity and for good governance.

Bells ring all over Nepal

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Nepal Election live results

After Thursday’s election, Nepalis are in a wait-and-watch mode. The Election Commission says counting ballot papers will be expedited this time, and the results for the First-Past-The-Post (FPTP) will start being declared within days. In 2022, it took three weeks for the final results to be tallied.&nbsp;
But winning an election is only half the challenge for the parties, forming a government under parliamentary politics is like a complicated mathematical equation.&nbsp;
In 2022, the Nepali Congress (NC) emerged as the biggest party, winning 89 seats. But the UML with 78 seats and the Maoists with 32 formed a minority government. In fact, Sher Bahadur Deuba did not become PM then despite leading the biggest party in Parliament.
This time, there is an unmistakeable Rastriya Swatantra Party (RSP) wave led by its prime ministerial candidate, Balendra Shah. Besides his own popularity, Shah represents change which most Nepalis are clamouring for after decades of corrupt and feckless coalitions that did not deliver.&nbsp;
The past months of campaigning has seen massive youth engagement on social media through memes, AI clips, and viral images. Digital content that appeals to emotion rather than policy debate between candidates shape electoral outcomes in Nepal and elsewhere. &nbsp;
Shah represents GenZ aspirations, and was their candidate for prime minister. It was only when he declined that Sushila Karki was nominated. None of the political parties in the recent past -- new, old, or revolutionary — have won enough seats to go it alone.&nbsp;
The most recent majority government was formed by the short-lived Communist Party of Nepal after the UML-Maoist merger in 2022. But that rare two-thirds majority collapsed after a power struggle between K P Oli and Pushpa Kamal Dahal. The only party to have won a majority was the NC in the 1991 and 1999 elections. But it is near impossible for it to repeat this success now, even with Gagan Thapa's rebranding of the party.&nbsp;
We have compiled these possible scenarios for election outcome in order of likelihood:
RSP gets a majority
RSP hits the magic 138 to form a government entirely on its own. Balendra Shah wins Jhapa-5, and becomes the new prime minister at 35, the youngest ever to hold the office in Nepal. But danger lurks: there could be a personality clash between Shah and Lamichhane who are both equally ambitious. History could repeat itself.&nbsp;
RSP wins but does not get a majority
RSP is likely to sweep the most votes, but what if it does not secure enough seats for a majority? It would need a coalition partner and Nepali Communist Party (NCP) under Pushpa Kamal Dahal could fit the bill, but only if it has the numbers. The RSP is not likely to team up with the UML or NC.
The NCP is relatively untainted by the 8 September events, and also has former UML defectors like Madhav Kumar Nepal and Bhim Rawal who could bag their rural vote banks. After all, there are no permanent foes in politics. If the royalist RPP and Tarai-based Janata Samajwadi have enough seats, those could be options for the RSP. &nbsp;
NC is second
The NC under the new leadership of Gagan Thapa could become the second biggest force and form a government with RSP in a power-sharing deal with Shah. This would be the most stable scenario since the RSP and NC have competent and idealistic young technocrats. Thapa himself embodies a strong combination of both old and new politics to navigate the system for more efficient government. But then Thapa and the RSP's Rabi Lamichhane do not get along.
NC and NCP form a majority
If the NC becomes the largest party but not by a big margin, it could join up with the NCP and Ujyalo. Teaming up with the UML would likely face backlash with the party and outside. If Gagan Thapa becomes prime minister he will face internal pressure from both Deuba loyalists. Same old story.
Minority coalition of NC, UML and NCP
RSP becomes the first party but does not get a majority, paving the way for the three legacy parties to cobble together a minority government. While this is possible in Nepal’s parliamentary system, such a scenario is likely to lead to more instability and dissatisfaction among young Nepalis demanding change, and even trigger street unrest. &nbsp;