Digital sovereignty has become one of those phrases that sounds powerful precisely because it is vague. It is invoked in policy documents, conferences, political speeches as if it was a destination waiting to be reached, something a country can simply decide to have.&nbsp;
For Nepal, however, digital sovereignty is less a goal than a tension we must learn to live with. It is the ability of a nation to control its present and future in the digital space. This includes the hardware we rely on, the software we use, and the data we generate, together forming what is called the digital public infrastructure.&nbsp;
But the uncomfortable question emerges: how much control is actually possible for a landlocked &nbsp;country squeezed between two giants, embedded in global supply chain and dependent on external connectivity?
Nepal’s digital dependency is not accidental: it is geographical, structural and is a choice just like any other between India and China. Until 2018, the country’s entire internet flowed through India. The addition of fibre links to China freed us from this monopoly, but it did not give us independence.&nbsp;
Building infrastructure across the Himalaya will never be as efficient as routing cables south. Digital sovereignty, argues Sixit Bhatta of Tootle and Vriddhi, is a political speech rather than a conversation. Modern digital systems are deeply interlinked, with data constantly moving &nbsp;across borders, he adds.
Hardware is manufactured in one country, software developed in another, and data stored somewhere else entirely. Expecting all three to align neatly within national borders is not how the internet works. It is impossible for us to use technology without Chinese hardware and US software.&nbsp;
“It is our current reality that all our data is currently somewhere in the Silicon Valley,” Bhatta told me. “Trying to have all this data within our own territory is an unimaginable feat, but even though sovereignty is not possible, there is data that is unique to Nepal that we can digitise to our advantage, with out own technologies.”
While we may not control where our servers are manufactured or where global platforms store metadata, we can still decide how our public systems are designed, governed, and integrated.
The government’s digital push over the past decade reflects this partial control. Systems like National ID and platforms such as the Nagarik App show slow, flawed progress in digitising service delivery. Citizens can access documents, register complaints, and interact with the state without standing in line.
NOT SMART
But digitisation is not the same as intelligence. As Niraj Bhusal from the Ministry of Finance points out, Nepal’s digital systems are “smart but dumb”. They exist online, but they often do not talk to each other. The fact that an expired passport can still be used to generate a police report is not a minor glitch, it is a reminder that automation without integration merely digitises inefficiency.
Ownership of data is where sovereignty is most often claimed, and most easily misunderstood. Bhusal says data generated through National ID, passports, and Lok Sewa remain fully owned by the state, even when systems are funded by external agencies like the World Bank or ADB or outsourced to foreign private companies.
Yet global examples suggest that ownership is not always the same as control. In several African countries, outsourced digital ID systems have locked governments into opaque contracts with foreign vendors, or have plunged states in surveillance instead of the promised democratic delivery.&nbsp;
In Mali, a dispute with the French company IDEMIA over payments led to election delays when access to biometric voter data was withheld. Data, in that moment, became leverage.
The same company, notably, was also involved in Nepal’s e-passport and National ID systems, but we recently ended the 16 year ties with the company in mid 2025. Outsourcing is not inherently harmful, but long-term dependence without domestic capacity-building creates quiet vulnerabilities and cycles of dependencies.&nbsp;
Bhusal also highlights that limitations of our systems through lack of education and political instability that leads even notable digitisation efforts not being owned by successive governments, as the credit goes to predecessors.&nbsp;
India’s Aadhaar system is often cited as a counterexample. Built on open-source technologies and managed domestically, it ensured that biometric data remained under state control. But Aadhaar also illustrates the other side of sovereignty: when the state controls vast amounts of citizen data, questions of surveillance, exclusion, and misuse inevitably follow. Sovereignty does not automatically translate into protection.
Nepal now stands somewhere in between. The draft Information Technology and Cyber Security Bill proposes data localisation requirements for sensitive sectors like finance and health. If enacted, it would formalise what officials already claim, that critical data stays within Nepal’s jurisdiction.
Ayusha Chalise is a communication and development scholar specialising in how politics is experienced in the digital space.

Ayusha Chalise

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Cyberia

Nepal’s digital dependency

This election is unfolding at a critical juncture in Nepal’s democratic journey, shaped by a past of adversity but also by a growing sense of future possibility.&nbsp;
Citizens are not skeptical of democracy itself, but more demanding about what democracy should deliver. Conversations across social and professional spaces reflect frustration grounded in lived experience rather than indifference.&nbsp;
Many continue to participate in elections while quietly questioning whether their participation leads to better decisions, better services, or better leadership, holding on to the belief that politics can still do better.
This election matters because time matters. Nepal stands at a moment when the next generation is ready to lead, innovate, and take responsibility, but political space has not kept pace with professional capability. The urgency today is not abstract or future oriented. It is immediate, and it is generational.
Nepal’s democracy has reached a stage where competitive elections alone are no longer enough — it is mature enough now to be accountable for what it delivers. After years of constitutional change and political transition, the more demanding test is how power is exercised after the votes are counted.&nbsp;
People rightfully have qualms about established political parties, but it is appropriate to acknowledge that they have shaped the republic. They led historic struggles, dismantled absolute monarchy, and anchored federalism in constitutional practice. These contributions form the foundation of today’s political system and deserve recognition.
At the same time, a political culture built primarily around legacy and control is struggling to meet contemporary expectations. Leadership structures remain concentrated, internal decision-making is opaque, and loyalty outweighs competence. In a society that is younger, better informed, and more demanding, this approach is stagnant, even anachronistic.
The most visible consequence of this culture is declining trust in governance outcomes. This should trouble all of us. When leadership renewal is resisted, when accountability mechanisms are weak, and when decisions are negotiated within closed circles, even well-intentioned policies lose public confidence. Performance becomes secondary to continuity, and citizens are left feeling unheard.
A governance-centred political approach treats public office as responsibility rather than reward. It emphasises systems over personalities and results over narratives. Openness, therefore, is not a concession to critics but a requirement for trust. Inclusivity of a wide array of voices is a must.
Women’s participation exposes the difference between formal inclusion and substantive influence. While legal frameworks promote representation, real power often remains concentrated elsewhere. Women are visible during elections but underrepresented where policies are shaped, budgets decided, and negotiations conducted.
Moving from presence to power is essential for democratic credibility. When women participate meaningfully in decision-making, governance improves through broader perspectives, stronger oversight, and more grounded policy choices. Inclusion is not symbolic generosity but institutional strength.
Understanding how voting translates into power is central to responsible citizenship. Nepal’s mixed electoral system assigns voters two distinct choices, one focused on individual representation and the other on strengthening political cultures through party selection. Each choice carries a different but equally important responsibility.
When voters recognise this distinction, elections become a tool for shaping standards rather than repeating habits. Voting then becomes a way to reward integrity, competence, and openness rather than merely affirming familiarity.
Democracy matures when voters evaluate both parties and individuals against clear benchmarks. Ideology and history matter, but they cannot replace accountability, transparency, and performance. Symbols may mobilise support, but standards sustain institutions.
Nepal’s political future depends on the willingness to correct course without discarding experience. Established parties possess networks, organisational frameworks, and institutional memory, which should not be abandoned simply because we are at a crossroads. However, without reform in how decisions are made and power is shared, these strengths risk becoming constraints.
A governance-centered politics begins with practical questions that directly affect citizens’ lives. How accountable is the system to people’s needs and aspirations? How efficiently are services delivered? How transparent are public decisions? How are conflicts of interest managed? How can performance be monitored between elections?
Elections should therefore mark the start of accountability rather than its end. Democratic systems flourish when leaders expect continuous scrutiny and citizens remain engaged with a healthy dose of skepticism.
The real divide between old and new politics lies in how authority is structured and justified. Old politics personalised power and resisted internal reform, limiting transparency and accountability. A newer political approach seeks to institutionalise decision-making, distribute leadership, and make governance visible and measurable.
This election represents a choice to pursue politics as a daily democratic practice rather than a periodic contest. It is about enabling enterprise without unnecessary bureaucracy, allowing individuals and businesses to create value, and preparing the next generation of professionals to lead with competence and integrity.&nbsp;
Nepal’s talent, including those abroad, is ready to contribute if the environment allows it. Ultimately, government should ask how it can create an environment that unleashes the creativity of its citizens. Government should not be measured by how robust it is, but by how efficient it is.
Nepal has talent, but it suffers from a lack of opportunity structures that allow talent to be recognised, trusted, to lead and deliver. The priority is to open space for younger professionals to demonstrate what they can contribute, not years from now, but now, when the country urgently needs their skills, skills, and ideas.&nbsp;
Too often, capable individuals are asked to wait or to adapt themselves to rigid hierarchies before they are allowed to contribute meaningfully. Nepal’s global talent pool is one of its most underutilised assets. Across the world, Nepalis are competing and succeeding in technology, finance, engineering, and creative industries. Many are willing to return, or at least remain economically engaged with Nepal, if the right environment exists.&nbsp;
With supportive policies, digital infrastructure, and regulatory clarity, Nepal can build industries that compete on quality and cost with much larger economies. Government should not position itself as the primary creator of jobs. Sustainable employment is generated by enterprises, entrepreneurs, and innovators, not by expanding the state’s payroll.&nbsp;
The responsibility of government is to remove barriers, invest in enabling infrastructure, and ensure fair rules so that individuals and businesses can create value. When government attempts to replace markets rather than support them, inefficiency grows and opportunity shrinks — and corruption finds space to flourish.
Politics should expand possibilities rather than managing scarcity. Whether through parties, institutions, or civic engagement, the work of improving politics lies in strengthening standards that endure beyond any single election or cycle.&nbsp;
This is the kind of contribution I seek to make, alongside others who believe Nepal can govern itself better.
Radhesh Pant is a former banker and now with the Gatisheel Nepal Party.

Guest Editorial

A chance for Nepal's political renewal

The Narayani River is one of the most important biodiverse hotspots among Nepal’s three major river systems. It is inhabited by critically endangered gharial crocodiles, gangetic dolphins, Bengal tigers and the great one horned rhinos.&nbsp; The river drains the watershed of central Nepal and is fed by glaciers from the Annapurnas to the mountains in Tibet. Nepal is among the 30 countries on the route of the Central Asian Flyway, making the river a significant site for the world Wildlife Fund (WWF) Wetlands for Asian Flyways.&nbsp; Migratory birds from the north cross the Himalaya along the tributatries of the Narayani in winter as the river and surrounding areas provide safe resting and feeding habitat for the fowls when the river enters the plains. The post monsoon receding rivers, oxbow lakes, and marshes supply food to the migratory birds and other wildlife.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260202160232_695e2f2f42117c2d3de50930eafdf7e62ef80418e518544b27c168dba43cf1a1.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20260202160232_695e2f2f42117c2d3de50930eafdf7e62ef80418e518544b27c168dba43cf1a1" data-rendition-name="original" width="1778" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Nepal's vanishing wetlands NT"> </figure>  In the 1960s, entire villages from Nepal’s mountains were translocated to the Tarai once malaria was eradicated. Vast stretches of forests and grassland were cleared for farming for the settlers in areas like Chitwan. The indigenous Tharu, Bote, Danuwar, Mushahar communities along the Narayani floodplain became a minority.&nbsp; The influx of population continues due to accessibility, infrastructure, facilities and livelihood opportunities in the Tarai. &nbsp;Chitwan’s population has increased by 37% since the 1981 census. Human settlements are now getting ever closer to the river boundaries of the Chitwan National Park. Chitwan has changed dramatically from the time I first visited in 1967 and when I started my career as a naturalist in 1984. The once laid-back and sleepy town was surrounded by large expanses of farms and forests stretching to the horizon, with the Narayani flowing nearby. Farmlands on the Narayani floodplains were inaccessible till 2000.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260202160232_1a20e67120539d5e0abb8701bde51c9bc2ea6eb9d67915cd42bc32bb63a87084.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20260202160232_1a20e67120539d5e0abb8701bde51c9bc2ea6eb9d67915cd42bc32bb63a87084" data-rendition-name="original" width="1777" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Nepal's vanishing wetlands NT"> <figcaption>Common Teal</figcaption> </figure>  People primarily grew single paddy crops annually, and much of the post-harvest paddy field was left fallow. These moist fallow fields with marshes were prime feeding habitat for geese, ducks, cranes, storks, Ibis and many waders. Today, Chitwan is one sprawling metropolis. The construction of dykes, spurs and high embankment to avert floods now prevent the farms from getting replenished with alluvial deposits. The deepening river channels have also deprived uplands of groundwater and farms of moisture . In 1973 Chitwan National Park was established as Nepal's first protected area, and in 1996, the government introduced the Buffer Zone Management Rule under the National Parks and Wildlife Conservation Act to manage forests surrounding protected areas, and ensure local participation in parks management.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260202160232_b3a91b25342e178e8f6c8b3bc33ae61c674c9e8c5c3eac8e16ee410227d07c69.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20260202160232_b3a91b25342e178e8f6c8b3bc33ae61c674c9e8c5c3eac8e16ee410227d07c69" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1205" loading="lazy" alt="Nepal's vanishing wetlands NT"> <figcaption>Black stork</figcaption> </figure>  Human persecution of wildlife decreased significantly after buffer zone regulations were enacted, and benefited local people via tourism and revenue from the national parks. Conservation partners worked closely with communities and contributed to an increase in the numbers of many iconic endangered species such as tigers, rhinos, wild elephants as well as migratory birds. Behaviour Change Champions’ bi-annual bird monitoring in the Narayani floodplain recorded 145 bird species in February 2025, and 148 bird species in December. Of the species documented, rare migratory birds included a single Sarus Crane, one Spot-billed Pelican, and about 20 Greater White Fronted Geese. In January 2005, two Bar-Headed Geese were fitted with satellite radio telemetry. Both the birds flew northeast to Dingmo Co lake, about 500km north of Mt Everest. Their return destination was far away in the wetlands of Bihar and Uttar Pradesh states of India.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260202160232_e7924a8b7dd620d3d97609b0c1cd030dd38a2c39e9b880ee80af919e96863a39.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20260202160232_e7924a8b7dd620d3d97609b0c1cd030dd38a2c39e9b880ee80af919e96863a39" data-rendition-name="original" width="1777" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Nepal's vanishing wetlands NT"> <figcaption>Greater white-fronted goose</figcaption> </figure>  According to field ornithologists DB Chaudhary, the number of bar-headed geese increased over 60% from 576 in 2024 and to 946 in 2026. &nbsp;Similarly, the number of Ruddy Shelducks also increased by nearly 60%, from 5,091 in 2024 to 8,523 in 2026.&nbsp; In contrast, common cranes saw a gradual decline in the early 2020s and their numbers have just begun to rise once again. Field ornithologist Hathan Chaudhary observed only 17 sharp common cranes in &nbsp;the Dibyanagar farms 2024, compared to 242 in 2020. In 2026, &nbsp;their number stands at 43 individuals. &nbsp; The fallow farms, the feeding habitats of birds like the Bar-headed Geese, Ruddy Shelducks, Common Cranes are shrinking rapidly from intensive farming and spread of human dwelling and industries. Farmers now grow mustard, buck wheat, lentils and corn during the dry season, and the use of pesticides and fungicides in standing crops is a threat for migratory birds that feed upon the crops. Meanwhile, the increase in the network of power cables pose threats of collision to migratory birds.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260202160232_d041195718df61adb57151f7dbc8f05dd720ccbab1f6643c8476a456e4c8082d.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20260202160232_d041195718df61adb57151f7dbc8f05dd720ccbab1f6643c8476a456e4c8082d" data-rendition-name="original" width="1777" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Nepal's vanishing wetlands NT"> </figure>  Other threats to wildlife have yet to be addressed. Growing population along the Narayani floodplain upstream continues to pollute the river with garbge. Fallow farms, which are feeding habitats of geese, ducks, and cranes, are shrinking rapidly from extensive farming, expansion of settlements, and industrialisation. FOWL-FRIENDLY&nbsp; Protecting our migratory birds requires safe feeding areas with vast expanses of open marshes and meadows inside the Chitwan National Park and the buffer zone to mitigate the loss of their feeding habitat. Divisional Forest Offices and Bharatpur Municipality could set aside large open marshes and wetlands as a sanctuary for migratory birds. Similarly, reduced availability of water will be a limiting factor for the conservation of wetland birds in the near future. Harvesting and working on groundwater recharge will ensure food security, habitat for migratory birds and other wildlife, and will help local communities combat the impacts of the climate crisis.&nbsp; Seasonal wetlands are particularly important for birds, with their receding water, they provide succulent grass and roots for dabbling ducks and for grazers and filter feeders such as geese, shelduck, pintails, mallards and gadwalls. Eleocharis, Scirpus and other wetlands plant species that grow tubers serve as food for birds once they are exposed to aerobic conditions.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260202160232_b06163d09ed589bf98186768cc75504e743de9ebbe278cad0dcf30a180b1b878.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20260202160232_b06163d09ed589bf98186768cc75504e743de9ebbe278cad0dcf30a180b1b878" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Nepal's vanishing wetlands NT"> </figure>  Enhanced shallow wetlands and surrogate feeding habitats with low angles of approach thus enable birds and mammals to feed. Once these wetlands dry, they expose worms, freshwater shrimps, mollusks, fishes, frogs, roots and tubers, making it easier for birds and other wildlife like rhinos, hog deers, fishing cats, otters, and tigers to forage.&nbsp; As it stands, the two-year WWF-led community-led conservation of wetlands and migratory birds in Narayani’ project aims to reduce the threats to the migratory birds by enhancing wetlands, capacitating local youth through Behavior Change Champions, and expanding surrogate feeding wetland habitats.&nbsp; The program is working to sensitise and enable indigenous and local communities towards migratory bird conservation, and hone the skills and knowledge of local bird tour guides, particularly women, in identifying and monitoring the birds habit and their response and adaptation to habitat change. The Behavior Change Champions are trained to rescue injured birds, and interact with local communities to reduce direct human persecution and harming of wildlife. WWF Nepal is supporting this project through the Terai Arc Landscape Conservation Program. The theme of the World Wetlands Day on 2 February 2026 is Wetlands and Traditional Knowledge: Celebrating Culture Heritage. We must honour this theme and actively contribute to the conservation of the migratory birds, which are our natural heritage, and in the process preserve their connection with local communities, farmlands, and nature. Rajendra N Suwal is the Head of Partnerships Development at WWF Nepal.

Opinion

Nepal's vanishing wetlands

On full-moon nights in October and the Nepali New Year in April, hundreds gather to worship at the sacred pond of Mai Pokhari in Ilam. According to legend, the pond was born thousands of years ago from the union of the holy Mai and Tamur rivers in eastern Nepal. Another story tells of an elderly couple whose death gave rise to a life-giving pond meant to quench human thirst. The nine corners of the pond are each believed to house a goddess capable of granting health, fertility, good harvests, and protection from landslides and storms. In every version, one message is constant: when people polluted the water, the goddess moved away. Fear of losing her protection still shapes how people treat the sacred water body today. Besides ponds, wetlands are areas that are saturated with water, permanently or seasonally, including marshes, swamps, and bogs – representing some of the world’s most biologically diverse ecosystems, with distinctive soil, plants and animals. In 2008, Mai Pokhari earned the status of a Ramsar site – a wetland of global importance – for its ecological significance.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260202020236_5fdcca89b06fcc0a2f2a7620931bc7fa1e932c72a5c1f5e083d4fd06287218b7.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20260202020236_5fdcca89b06fcc0a2f2a7620931bc7fa1e932c72a5c1f5e083d4fd06287218b7" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Mai Pokhari"> <figcaption>Mai Pokhari in Ilam. Photo: JITENDRA RAJ BAJRACHARYA / ICIMOD</figcaption> </figure>  Its mid-elevation broadleaved forests provide habitat for many epiphytic orchids that grow without soil, attaching themselves to trees, and protected species such as the white-rumped vulture (Gyps bengalensis), leopard cat (Prionailurus bengalensis) and Eurasian Otter (Lutra lutra). For the people of the area, this is more than a wetland. It is a living mother, an ancestral guardian, and at the heart of their cultural identity. But long before it was recognised internationally, it was already being protected through belief, respect, and traditional knowledge passed quietly from one generation to the next. This pattern of faith-based stewardship is repeated across the Himalaya. Spirituality has shaped conservation in ways no law ever could. Fishing, hunting, and polluting wetlands and rivers are strictly forbidden, not by force but by faith. When erosion threatened the pond in the 1930s, villagers planted pine trees along its edges. As forest degradation increased, the community organised itself, establishing community forests in 1992 and 2001. In 2004, the area surrounding the pond was formally recognised as a religious forest –- a recognition based on local devotion rather than outside instruction.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260202020236_18ec88be3dadf3573074796decb255e3b536893d5778735cf6e7dc3184330017.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20260202020236_18ec88be3dadf3573074796decb255e3b536893d5778735cf6e7dc3184330017" data-rendition-name="original" width="919" height="540" loading="lazy" alt="Map of wetlands in Hindu Kush"> <figcaption>Map showing four wetlands in the Hindu Kush Himalaya. Source: RAMESH KATHARIYA / ICIMOD</figcaption> </figure>  In the lowland forests of western Nepal, lies Ghodaghodi, a wetland complex consisting of large and shallow oxbow lake with 13 associated marshes and meadows surrounded by tropical deciduous forest on the lower slopes of the Siwalik range along the southern edge of the Himalaya. These wetlands and forests serve as a critical wildlife corridor between the lowlands and the Siwalik, supporting several globally threatened species of plants and animals, and rare wild rice. To the people who live around it, especially the Indigenous Tharu, Ghodaghodi is alive – a sacred presence shaped by gods, ancestors, and centuries of belief. The name Ghodaghodi, which means horse and mare, carries ancient memories. Elders tell stories of divine beings who once moved through the landscape in animal form, leaving behind a lake infused with spiritual powers. The waters are believed to be the dwelling place of gods and goddesses, particularly Lord Shiva. This belief has shaped how the wetland is viewed: not as property to be owned, but as a holy space to be respected. Each year during the festival of Agan Panchami, thousands of pilgrims gather at Ghodaghodi, walking barefoot along forest paths with offerings of flowers, fruits, milk, and water. Polluting the water or harming its creatures is believed to invite misfortune. These unwritten cultural rules have conserved the wetland for generations, long before it was declared a wetland of global importance. In the central highlands of Bhutan lies the Gangtey-Phobji in a wide glacial valley. The Ramsar site is the prime wintering habitat for the globally vulnerable, black-necked crane (Grus nigricollis).  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260202020236_7a8c7215ecc6928e7160e8057c761095e7021e711e1290f6d8b2c8a50879be64.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20260202020236_7a8c7215ecc6928e7160e8057c761095e7021e711e1290f6d8b2c8a50879be64" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="998" loading="lazy" alt="Black necked crane"> <figcaption>Black-necked crane in Phobji. ALEX TREADWAY / ICIMOD</figcaption> </figure>  An annual festival at the Gangtey monastery welcomes the arrival of the cranes in November. Locals revere the birds as sacred messengers, and they are believed to bring blessings and prosperity. It is these beliefs that have helped preserve Bhutan’s flagship Ramsar site. In West Sikkim, the Khachoedpalri wetland was declared a Ramsar site in 2025. This Himalayan high-altitude wetland ecosystem and its surrounding temperate forests provide critical habitat for many species of flora and fauna, and the wetland serves as an important habitat and stopover site for migratory birds. But more importantly, it has religious significance as a pilgrimage site and is revered by both Buddhists and Hindus as a wish-fulfilling lake. It is these values that have supported its conservation from time immemorial. These wetlands are recognised internationally as Ramsar sites for their ecological and other attributes. However, the very cultural practices that preserved these wetlands, along with new external pressures, now threaten them. Many are now increasingly under threat due to growing human intervention – including misplaced practices such as the ritual release of exotic fish by the faithful. Some religious bodies now advise against these practices. Many others are drying out, silting up, or polluted by upstream activity. As these changes intensify, there is concern that not only biodiversity, but also the cultural practices and spiritual values tied to the wetlands may begin to fade. As we mark this year’s World Wetlands Day on 2 February with the theme ‘Wetlands and Traditional Knowledge: Celebrating Cultural Heritage’ it is a reminder that wetlands are not only ecosystems – they are rich cultural spaces. Traditional knowledge and belief systems have quietly conserved these wetlands for centuries, showing that when people revere nature, protection becomes a way of life. It is this profound connection, where culture nurtures ecology that we must safeguard to ensure neither wetlands nor the heritage they hold fade away. Sunita Chaudhary is the Biodiversity Lead at the International Centre for Integrated Mountain Development (ICIMOD).

Where culture meets ecology

Inside the District Hospital in Mugu, one of Nepal’s remotest and underserved regions, hospital staff enter details of an elderly female patient with a prolapsed uterus into a computer instead of writing them into a heavy ledger like they used to.&nbsp;
This may seem like a modest improvement, but it is transforming medical care in the most isolated parts of Nepal – proving that digital systems can help the country leapfrog in strengthening healthcare delivery even in the most challenging setting.&nbsp;
In the past year, Nepal’s national health insurance information system experienced a major failure that exposed critical vulnerabilities. Months of insurance claims were inaccessible overnight, placing hospitals, particularly rural facilities, under critical financial strain.&nbsp;
Hospitals were unable to recover claims data in a timely manner, threatening continuity of patient care. But during this, Mehelkuna Hospital and others in Karnali Province demonstrated how digital health infrastructure can build system resilience.&nbsp;
Supported by an integrated electronic health record (EHR) system, this one hospital in Surkhet securely retrieved patient and claims data and resubmitted nearly 40,000 insurance claims within 15 days, safeguarding Rs8 million in revenue.&nbsp;
This was a crucial policy insight that digital health records are not an optional innovation, they represent core public health infrastructure.&nbsp;
The EHR initiative was launched at Bayalpata Hospital in Achham District by Nyaya Health Nepal (NHN) in 2016 and expanded to hospitals in Charikot, Aampipal and Aabu Khareni.
It has now also been scaled across eight districts of Karnali Province, helping track patients and aligning the data with government reporting and insurance mechanisms.&nbsp;
ENSURING INSURANCE
NHN has embedded its EHR initiative within public hospitals. For example, in Karnali Province this means the Ministry of Social Development (MoSD) in Surkhet has a Dashboard which aggregates realtime data across eight district hospitals.
Information on health outcomes of patients, service delivery, insurance utilisation are all available in real time and are at the fingertips of provincial officials. The Dashboard supports evidence-based decision-making, improves transparency in reporting, and strengthens the province’s capacity to monitor trends and identify gaps in care.
Earlier paper-based reporting was slow, and could not be accessed or cross-referenced easily, hindering prompt planning and resource allocation.&nbsp;
But digital transformation in healthcare is not just about technology. It is about system consolidation, linking service delivery, health financing, governance, and accountability through reliable and real-time data. Integrated EHRs improve transparency in insurance claims and enable evidence-based planning.&nbsp;
Unaffordable medical care and out-of-pocket expenses for family members can push households into poverty. Many Nepalis migrating overseas say one push factor is the cost of care of close relatives. &nbsp;
This is what makes universal health insurance so vital, but it is in crisis. The Health Insurance Board (HIB) was formed in 2016, and has now spread across all 77 districts, covering 10 million Nepalis.
But HIB faces problems of sustainability and claims settlements. This week it asked the government to replenish Rs1 billion in funds, and the government’s TUTH Hospital has stopped treating patients covered by the HIB citing delayed reimbursement of claims.
This underlines the need for stronger institutional autonomy, predictable financing, and enhanced operational capacity within the HIB. One way to streamline insurance and reduce risk is by embedding digital systems.&nbsp;
Universal Health Coverage depends on accurate, timely, and inter-operable data flows between service delivery points and national financing mechanisms.&nbsp;
Integrating EHRs with insurance platforms can significantly reduce claims backlogs, improve transparency and accountability, and enhance fiscal reliability for public hospitals. &nbsp;
The experience of NHN-EHR in Karnali hospitals with digital records and insurance provides a compelling model for the rest of the country. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
Srijana Devkota is Director of Program and Partnerships at Nyaya Health Nepal (NHN).

Fix what is broken

The car’s trunk was crammed with boxes and suitcases, almost to the roof, and I was just waiting for the inevitable heart-wrenching screech or thud from underneath as I feathered on the accelerator, trying to cross through the infamous Daunne uphill section of the East-West Highway in an MPV.&nbsp; But to my surprise, the ground clearance of 170mm did not fail. Daunne, roughly 15km long, is the landslide prone ridge between Narayanghat and Butwal section, which is perennially affected by traffic jams, thanks to ongoing (and never ending) road expansion. Traffic jams here can be tens of kilometres long. On a November 2025 trip to Bhairawa it was dry enough to wade through the dreaded Daunne where the choice on the ‘road’ is either mud or dust (or both).&nbsp; The BYD M6 MPV EV borrowed for the journey claimed a range of 440km and 580L of space at the back in an almost 4.7m long form factor.&nbsp; On board were two family members and my five-year-old dog, Kulfi (pictured) who needed frequent stretch breaks for his paws. Stopping to charge the car was most certainly not on my to-do list. Within the first 20km from Koteswor, there were already multiple DC chargers along the roadside. They were fast chargers usually between 30 to 60kWs capacities, meaning a charge to 80% would take on average less than an hour. Nepal now boasts over 1,200 charging stations, each station is often equipped with multiple charging guns. This was a stark contrast to the harsh reality of charger anxiety I faced a couple of years in our family car, the Hyundai Kona. Back then, on the way back from Pokhara there was only a single charging gun at River Side Resort in Kurintar.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026013104014_d36a1ed529caa0b67424699407da8b42b51f4a4b63dd6dbeb662b0ab513b77a8.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="2026013104014_d36a1ed529caa0b67424699407da8b42b51f4a4b63dd6dbeb662b0ab513b77a8" data-rendition-name="original" width="2652" height="984" loading="lazy" alt="Page 5 map"> </figure>  These were only fast AC chargers of speeds up to 6kWs, unlike today’s much faster DC chargers. This meant the car would take multiple hours to hit the 80% mark -- and the charger would sometimes (shockingly, and without explanation) be out of operation. No one to ask questions, and no one to answer either. While I never needed to charge my EV on the way to Pokhara from Kathmandu, my precautionary nature never allowed me to climb into the Valley via Naubise without a charge. One bad accident, some sort of natural disaster, and you knew the roads would be clogged with traffic and shut down for at least a couple of hours.&nbsp; Fast forward to the present. My mind was at ease. Even if one of the charging stations was crowded, there was conveniently another one 15 minutes away. But the BYD M6 did not require any of that anyway.&nbsp; Not only did it traverse the rough highway from Kathmandu to Mugling, and then onward over the Daunne pass with ease but because the car was heavy and low, it handled high speeds and corners like a champ.&nbsp; Foot down on the accelerator and it climbed to triple digit speeds without breaking a sweat. Put your foot relatively harder on the brakes and it would equally shed its momentum, all the while being economical. After multiple quick stretch stops for Kulfi, and a proper one hour lunch break, I had arrived at Bhairawa before nightfall, still with around 100km of range left in the car and most importantly, with all the luggage intact.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026013104018_1cc05d858d14f0b83fcf586c7270be003f462d60cd19934218e271d59fef3496.png" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="2026013104018_1cc05d858d14f0b83fcf586c7270be003f462d60cd19934218e271d59fef3496" data-rendition-name="original" width="1384" height="808" loading="lazy" alt="Bye-bye range anxiety NT"> </figure>  ROUNDTRIP A week later, my return trip to Kathmandu saw an additional passenger and even more luggage – but once again, I arrived back in Kathmandu with ease: both the M6 and Nepal’s charger infrastructure had exceeded my expectations and needs.&nbsp; This 600km drive to and from Bhairawa from the mountains around Kathmandu to the Tarai plains, with not-so-smooth hilly terrain in between, highlighted not only how far electric vehicles have evolved but also showed how far the charging infrastructure (once a major irritant during the Covid years) had come.&nbsp; EVs in Nepal are no longer niche products; they are available across budgets and segments, ranging in form factor from micro city commuters and family hatchbacks to compact SUVs, pickups, and even full-size MPVs.&nbsp; One noticeable improvement on the highways is that the charging infrastructure has grown from a scattered and company-installed. NEA units along major routes have now converted into full-fledged, round-the-clock networks that allow flexibility and convenience to those of us who like to enjoy our times on the road.&nbsp; What once felt like a gamble, now feels like momentum — and the road ahead for electric mobility in Nepal looks smoother. &nbsp;&nbsp; Arnav Upadhyay reviews automobiles and promotes road safety under the handle Casually Annoyed Driver on Youtube, Tiktok and IG and this monthly column Drive Line in Nepali Times.

Arnav Upadhyay

Drive Line

Bye-bye range anxiety

Monday, 8 September marked the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/nepal-s-8-september-massacre">largest single-day, state-led massacre of protesters</a> in Nepal’s recent history. The indiscriminate firing of automatic weapons on the GenZ demonstrators for over three hours killed 21 people. Most were below 28, waiting to fly overseas as migrant workers.
This sparked the violence of the following day that ultimately left 76 people dead. Postmortem reports show that the protesters on 8 September were <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/security-forces-targeted-protestors-disproportionately-hrw">shot directly in the chest, head, and abdomen</a>.
During the GenZ protests, the Nepal Army also killed 10 prisoners who were attempting to flee jails. Yet, no one questioned or condemned the Army for taking such lethal measures.
Brutality and <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/transitional-injustice-in-nepal">extrajudicial killings</a> by the security forces are not uncommon in Nepal. They peaked during the Maoist conflict, and recur often. What happened during the GenZ protests was a continuation of culture.
During the <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/regular-columns/Comment/masochism-in-madhes,563">Madhes Movement in 2015</a>, the K P Oli-led regime was also responsible for more than 50 deaths. Police forces shot and killed 16 people. In Janakpur, a police officer shot and killed a 14-year-old child, Nitu Yadav, at point-blank range while he was trying to hide behind some bushes.&nbsp;
According to witnesses, the masked police officer forced the child to the ground, shot him in the head, and kicked him while shouting, “Shoot this motherf**ker.” No police chiefs were held accountable for these atrocities. The state has still not released the Laal Aayog Report, which investigated <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/tikapur-s-protracted-trauma">killings in the Tarai</a>.&nbsp;
In 2026 the Armed Police Force (APF) shot and killed rickshaw driver Bijay Shah in sunsari while he was transporting goods across the border. From 2017 to 2021, at least 22 people died in police custody alone, most of them Madhesi and Dalits.&nbsp;
Police routinely described these deaths as suicides, yet this was never independently verified. In Shah’s case, the APF claimed without evidence that he died in a crossfire. Police institutions continue to function <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/mob-movement-and-mayhem">as they did under the Panchayat regime</a>. In the absence of proper investigation, there is impunity and the killings go on.&nbsp;
This lack of accountability means that the Nepali state has normalised killings by its security apparatus. When pressed about shooting protesters outside Parliament in September, Prime Minister KP Oli and Police Chief Chandra Kuber Khapung defended themselves saying, “Bullets do not have eyes.”&nbsp;
There was <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/election-vs-escalation">no remorse or empathy</a>, and a refusal to accept responsibility. They failed to acknowledge that the state has a constitutional mandate to protect its citizens, including those accused of crimes.&nbsp;
Those in power routinely shift the blame onto protesters. In reality, police often initiate intimidation and violence at otherwise peaceful protests, as seen on 8 September. According to witnesses, protesters only became agitated after Nepal Police started firing tear gas, and shooting one of the demonstrators.&nbsp;
The Gauri Bahadur Karki Judicial Investigation Commission has not yet filed its report. But there will be justice only when then-Prime Minister KP Oli, Home Minister Ramesh Lekhak, and Kathmandu CDO Chhabi Rijal are held accountable for their actions or inaction. But it should not end there -- all police officers involved in the killings must also face justice.&nbsp;
No government or political leader in the past decades has tried to <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=2809">reform police to end their impunity</a>. Politicians in power and police forces maintain an unspoken, unholy nexus – from the local to the state level. It is a mutual protection arrangement. Those in power rely on the police to maintain their power and even prosecute opponents, while the police depend on them for political patronage.&nbsp;
To be sure, Nepal Police just reflects the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/the-story-so-far">state of the country’s democracy</a>, as well as its lack of commitment to human rights and the rule of law. Genuine reform and democratisation of the police force is needed to uphold human rights and the Constitution, and increase institutional diversity with greater representation of women, Dalits, Madhesi, indigenous and the traditionally excluded.&nbsp;
The <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=18719">APF was originally formed </a>to suppress the Maoist armed conflict and is now used to quell public protests. It should be dismantled, and the post of Chief District Officer abolished. &nbsp;
The Office of the Attorney General and the National Human Rights Commission have repeatedly failed to address police killings and torture. A strong independent mechanism is needed to investigate abuses of power and prosecute those responsible.&nbsp;
The argument is that holding police to account will damage their morale. Actually, ending impunity and enforcing accountability would enhance the police’s public image and strengthen the institution, enabling it to maintain law and order without turning into a killing machine.&nbsp;
More importantly, we need to design <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/two-sides-of-the-same-coin">state institutions</a> to be empathetic. Only then will society embody tolerance. If culture of killing is accepted, it fosters violence. This is what happened on 9 September. The mayhem was no coincidence.&nbsp;
Police killings and abuse of power, and their entrenched impunity, have led to mounting public anger towards the state and resentment towards the system. If this continues unchecked, it will threaten the very stability of democracy that these institutions are supposed to safeguard. &nbsp;
Prashanta Khanal is an independent climate and transport policy researcher.&nbsp;

Policing the Police

The Trump administration’s recent announcement of its <a href="https://www.whitehouse.gov/fact-sheets/2026/01/fact-sheet-president-donald-j-trump-withdraws-the-united-states-from-international-organizations-that-are-contrary-to-the-interests-of-the-united-states/" target="_blank">withdrawal from 66 international organisations</a> has been met with a mixture of alarm and applause. &nbsp;While the headline number suggests a dramatic retreat from the world stage, a closer look reveals a more nuanced, and perhaps more insidious, strategy.&nbsp;
The move is less a wholesale abandonment of the United Nations system and more a targeted pruning of the multilateral vine, aimed at withering specific branches of global cooperation that the administration deems contrary to its interests. While the immediate financial impact may be less than feared, the long-term consequences for the UN and the rules-based international order are profound.
At first glance, the withdrawal appears to be a sweeping rejection of global engagement. <a href="https://www.whitehouse.gov/presidential-actions/2026/01/withdrawing-the-united-states-from-international-organizations-conventions-and-treaties-that-are-contrary-to-the-interests-of-the-united-states/" target="_blank">The list of targeted entities</a> is long and diverse, ranging from the well-known UN Framework Convention on Climate Change (UNFCCC) to more obscure bodies like the International Lead and Zinc Study Group. However, as <a href="https://casquebleu.substack.com/p/unpacking-the-results-of-the-review" target="_blank">Eugene Chen</a> has astutely observed, the reality is more complex.
The vast majority of the UN-related entities on the list are not independent international organisations, but rather subsidiary bodies, funds, and programmes of the UN itself. The administration is not, for now, withdrawing from the UN Charter, but rather selectively defunding and disengaging from the parts of the UN system it finds objectionable.
This selective approach reveals a clear ideological agenda. The targeted entities are overwhelmingly focused on issues that the Trump administration has long disdained: climate change, sustainable development, gender equality, and human rights. The list includes the UN’s main development arm, the Department of Economic and Social Affairs; its primary gender entity, UN Women; and a host of bodies dedicated to peacebuilding and conflict prevention.&nbsp;
The inclusion of the UN’s regional economic commissions, which play a vital role in promoting regional cooperation and development, is particularly telling. This is not simply a cost-cutting exercise; it is a deliberate attempt to dismantle the architecture of global cooperation in areas that do not align with the administration’s narrow, nationalist worldview.
The decision to remain a member of the UN’s specialised agencies, such as the World Health Organization (from which the administration has already announced its withdrawal in a separate action) and the International Atomic Energy Agency, is equally revealing. This is not a sign of a renewed commitment to multilateralism, but rather a cold, calculated decision based on a narrow definition of US national security interests.&nbsp;
The administration has made it clear that it sees these agencies as useful tools to counter the influence of a rising China. This ‘à la carte’ approach to multilateralism, where the US picks and chooses which parts of the system to support based on its own geopolitical interests, is deeply corrosive to the principles of collective security and universal values that underpin the UN Charter.
What, then, should be done? The international community cannot afford to simply stand by and watch as the UN system is hollowed out from within. A concerted effort is needed to mitigate the damage and reaffirm the importance of multilateral cooperation.
First, other member states must step up to fill the financial and leadership void left by the United States. This will require not only increased financial contributions, but also a renewed political commitment to the UN’s work in the areas of sustainable development, climate action, and human rights.&nbsp;
Second, civil society organisations and the academic community have a crucial role to play in monitoring the impact of the US withdrawal and advocating for the continued relevance of the affected UN entities.&nbsp;
Finally, the UN itself must do a better job of communicating its value to a sceptical public. The organisation must move beyond bureaucratic jargon and technical reports to tell a compelling story about how its work makes a real difference in the lives of people around the world.
The Trump administration’s latest move is a stark reminder that the post-war international order can no longer be taken for granted. It is a call to action for all who believe in the power of multilateralism to address our shared global challenges. The UN may be a flawed and imperfect institution, but it remains our best hope for a more peaceful, prosperous, and sustainable world. We must not allow it to wither on the vine.
Jordan Ryan is at the Toda Peace Institute and a former UN Assistant Secretary-General with extensive experience in international peacebuilding, human rights, and development policy.&nbsp;
This article was issued by the Toda Peace Institute and has been republished from <a href="https://toda.org/global-outlook/2026/the-uns-withering-vine-a-us-retreat-from-global-governance.html">the original</a> with permission.

The UN’s withering vine

Despite funding setbacks, Nepal’s public health sector keeps developing new initiatives to strengthen maternal and newborn health. Two in particular, aimed at improving maternal nutrition and safe delivery, are in the pipeline for 2026.
The first initiative is multiple micronutrient supplementation (MMS) for pregnant women. The MMS will replace the iron and folic acid (IFA) supplements that the government now provides with 15 essential vitamins and minerals, including IFA.
The second plan is to do field research on the use of carbetocin as a drug to prevent post-partum haemmorhage (PPH). This is important because carbetocin is not as heat-sensitive as oxytocin, the current main option for treating PPH. In fact, the new medicine is known as heat-sensitive carbetocin (HSC).
The study is scheduled to start early in the new year. It will be a collaboration between One Heart Worldwide, Ferring Pharmaceuticals and the family welfare division (FWD) of the Department of Health.
A recent study in Nigeria found that health-care providers preferred giving HSC to women delivering babies because it had fewer side-effects and was of higher quality than oxytocin, which was often reported to be degraded by heat or supply-chain issues. The same issues are also barriers in Nepal.
PPH has for decades been one of the leading causes of maternal deaths, in Nepal and globally.
“We are confident that transitioning from IFA to MMS will enable expectant mothers to receive a more comprehensive suite of micronutrients, leading to improved pregnancy outcomes,” says Pooja Pandey Rana, Country Director of Helen Keller International for Bangladesh and Nepal.
The MMS plan is a collaboration between the FWD, the NGO Helen Keller International, Eleanor Crook Foundation, a US-based organisation that funds nutrition work globally, and other development partners.
According to Lili Bikram Thapa, Chief Nutrition Officer at the FWD, they are now preparing a road map for the rolling out of MMS once an assessment is finalised. Meanwhile, Indra Dhoj Kshetri of Helen Keller International said that his organisation is providing technical support to develop the road map.&nbsp;
“We hope that the government will gradually roll out MMS in a few provinces towards the end of this fiscal year July 2026,” said Kshetri, Officer, Africa and Asia Content Marketing, at the organisation.
He added that the partners are now researching possible “issues and bottlenecks” about switching to MMS as well as acceptance of the new supplements by pregnant women. Findings of both analyses are expected in January 2026.
MONEY MATTERS
Another current task, said Kshetri, is trying to get MMS added to Nepal’s essential medicine list (EML). That would reduce its cost. Today, MMS is imported as a food supplement and subject to 30% customs duty. But once on the EML, that duty would drop to about 5%, making it easier on the wallets of development partners and — if the government eventually takes over the programme as planned — on the public purse.
Of course, getting it on the list does not guarantee its availability. As many previous reports have pointed out, including a recent article in NepalNews, local governments have had a hard time keeping all medicines in stock. This would of course also apply to HSC if it is approved for use.
Earlier this year a Micronutrient Survey planned for 2025 was cancelled after USAID shut down.&nbsp;
When asked if it was a good idea to go ahead with MMS if they didn’t know the current state of micronutrients in Nepali diets, Pooja Pandey Rana of Helen Keller International said that while a micronutrient survey would have added useful insights, it is unlikely to have a significant impact on the government’s planned transition to MMS.&nbsp;
“There’s already a body of evidence from the Nepal Demographic and Health Survey and past micronutrient surveys that Nepali women have high levels of micronutrient deficiencies and undernutrition,” she added.
“Prior research consistently shows that MMS leads to better pregnancy outcomes compared to IFA alone. A large body of global evidence reinforces these findings. And therefore, WHO has recommended to include MMS in the antenatal care package. We are confident that transitioning from IFA to MMS will enable expectant mothers to receive a more comprehensive suite of micronutrients, leading to improved pregnancy outcomes.”
The plan is to start rolling out MMS in one province by July 2026.&nbsp;

Marty Logan

Safe delivery in 2026

Nepal’s 2022 elections, its second under the federal system, was marked by the disruption in Nepal’s political status quo. Two figures stood out in particular: Balen Shah, whose outsider candidacy transformed urban political imagination, and the Rastriya Swatantra Party under Rabi Lamichhane, which leveraged his extensive media-built credibility to secure unexpected influence within months of its formation.&nbsp;
Their success was not an ideological victory, it was the victory of leaders who presented a vision of leadership that was different from Nepal’s political norm. It was the result of sophisticated public relations, effective message dissemination, and the careful cultivation of the credibility of these forces.&nbsp;
Last week, these once-separate trajectories formally converged as Shah and Lamichhane first joined forces, and within twenty-four hours their alliance expanded further with Kulman Ghising’s Ujjyalo Party. Ghising, who was appointed Minister in Nepal’s post-September interim Cabinet largely due to his public goodwill, has been another public figure whose reputation has been built as much through performance as through perception.&nbsp;
Together, Balen-Rabi-Kulman (BRK) now present themselves as an alternative front to the entrenched Oli–Prachanda–Deuba(OPD) power centre. But as this emerging bloc positions itself as a corrective option to “old politics”, the first substantive glimpse into its internal political behaviour raises important questions. The alliance’s Proportional Representation (PR) list provides an early indicator of priorities.&nbsp;
“The PR list of RSP showcases the utter disrespect for the constitution,” says Shailee Chaudhary, a PR candidate from Gatisheel Loktantrik Party. “It reveals that RSP at its core is an opportunistic clique instead of a political party. For them the PR list became a corporate takeover for their investors and brand ambassadors.”&nbsp;
Prospective candidates were reportedly required to pay Rs50,000 to have their names included, and the resulting roster reads less like a reflection of Nepal’s diverse social fabric and more like an inventory of recognised public figures.&nbsp;
The party’s explanation for the Rs50,000 fee requirement was that it has been raised to ensure that candidates are well off enough to not engage in corruption. But Mangpahang says this defense implies that corruption is exclusive to the poor.&nbsp;
“The PR system of RSP has been captured by elites,” says Yajaswi Mangpahang, President of Youth Congress Nepal. “The fact that one had to be affluent to be considered in the list is exclusionary.”
Mangpahang compares the PR selection process of the RSP to the Nepali Congress. The NC has exploited the PR list, she says, but the party has at the least understood the essence of the system, and why it exists.
“Nepal’s diversity, its socio-economic and political history, as well as where we are now must be understood by politicians,” she adds.&nbsp;
POLITICS OR POPULARITY CONTEST?
Actors, singers, pageant winners to business personalities and athletes in RSP’s PR list have positioned themselves as representatives of marginalised communities from dalit, adhiwasi janajati, and khas-arya communities. Notable names include: singer Prakash Saput (Dalit), actress Reema Bishwokarma (Dalit Woman), former Miss Nepal Anushka Shrestha (Adhivasi Woman), executive director of Goldstar shoes Vidhusi Rana (Khas-Arya Woman) and the once formidable contender for KMC mayoral race, Ranju Darshana (Khas Arya-Woman).&nbsp;
“The legal benchmarks of the representations are met but there is no clarity of principle in the list,” says Mangpahang.
Rather than reimagining representation, RSP’s PR list appears to extend the same reliance on visibility and public appeal that has driven the BRK’s rise so far. Reducing politics to communication tactics and profile-building not only trivialises governance, it fundamentally distorts the purpose of the proportional representation system, which was designed to broaden inclusion, not as a stage to curate and amplify personalities with pre-existing social capital.&nbsp;
“The inclusion of already established figures in the PR list meant for marginalised communities is evidence of intellectual and moral poverty,” says Chaudhary. “It signals that their approach is 100% about marketing and 0% about representation. They are not building a party, they are merging fan clubs, they confuse social media trends with grassroots movements and celebrity recognition with democratic legitimacy.”
Indeed, this strategy is akin to the dynamics of social media, where visibility translates directly into political currency. Shah’s politics has been inseparable from his online persona, carefully crafted through bold declarations, poetic nationalism, and viral digital performance. Lamichhane’s rise, meanwhile, is rooted in years of television-driven credibility, now amplified through algorithmic circulation that rewards outrage, emotional immediacy, and charismatic confrontation over deliberative politics.&nbsp;
The BRK project exemplifies how Nepali politics is increasingly being shaped by algorithmic culture. Platforms such as Facebook, TikTok, and YouTube don’t simply reflect political sentiment; they actively shape it by privileging sensationalism, conflict, and personality-driven storytelling. Their political momentum is therefore less a reflection of ideological consolidation and more a product of digital mobilisation, where “followers” begin to substitute party structures, and engagement metrics are mistaken for mass legitimacy.&nbsp;
In such an ecosystem, leaders who can command attention are rewarded more than those who can articulate policy. Indeed, political power in Nepal is increasingly determined by who commands the loudest applause, especially online. This risks reducing democracy to an algorithmic popularity contest: noisy and charismatic, but ultimately no different from the legacy political figures, just with a new facade.&nbsp;
“In the long run this subverts the constitution rendering its core components meaningless. It kills the spirit of inclusive democracy, it also erases marginalised voices, pushing the voices of women, Dalit, adivasi janajati and other marginalised groups and reduces politics to a spectator sport,” adds Chaudhary. “It teaches voters that politics is about cheering for individual heroes, not about advocating for communities or ideologies.”
Political legitimacy online may appear like that people and the leader are interacting, directly in touch with one another, but to pursue popularity over policy-driven politics is to avoid facing the public. What the RSP has done now is to make a safety valve for elites so that they do not actively interact with the people.&nbsp;
“To run an election is to have guts, you must have an understanding of your constituency, you must have a vision, and it is a gamble,” says Mangpahang.&nbsp;
When political legitimacy becomes increasingly tethered to personal popularity and digital visibility, it risks sidelining individuals who possess competence, policy expertise, and grassroots understanding, because they lack comparable social capital.&nbsp;
If the system rewards recognition over representation, leadership opportunities go to those embedded in media and celebrity ecosystems. This could consolidate power and perpetuate the marginalisation of communities who are structurally disenfranchised from politics.
Ayusha Chalise is a communication and development scholar specialising in how politics is experienced in the digital space.

RSP’s PR list is not good PR

During the 2022 election, populist candidates campaigned with algorithms and were elected mayors. In 2026, they are campaigning with AI-generated memes and videos. Four years ago, the idea that the most potent weapon in the next election in Nepal would be artificially generated clips of politicians beating each other up would have been science fiction. Yet, here we are: at a fever pitch of AI-based political content. Some are generated by the IT cells of political parties, while most are just produced and posted by young tech-savvy supporters of the new candidates. Most of them ridicule older leaders, and the predominant target is former prime minister K P Oli who was forced to resign after the September protests. On 20 January the TikTok account ‘iamfunnyman88’ posted a slapstick video in which former Kathmandu Mayor Balendra Shah is seen accosting ex-prime minister K P Oli with a giant bell (pictured), swinging it in Kung Fu Hustle style in what looks like Patan Darbar Square. Oli is sent splattered on the ground. K P Oli has become a symbol of the legacy parties and their aged leaders, and everything that is wrong with them. Balendra Shah represents the new protest candidate. The two are contesting from Jhapa-5, and it is turning out to be a prime ministerial race for 5 March. In another video, the RSP vs UML clash played out as a high-stakes war from the Mahabharat. Oli is a young warrior with a chiselled jaw and wearing a heavy golden armour ready to lead his followers to battle (pictured). A stylised Nepal flag flutters above him to the accompaniment of filmy dialogue.&nbsp; The videos are everywhere on TikTok, YouTube and Facebook. Many of the posts are hitting over 200,000 likes and 5 million views. Such content seems to be engaging more voters than speeches and door-to-door campaigning at the hustings. The videos are fake, but the numbers, and the attention they command, are very real.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026013014010_ed52fe3248b54eb4f9f391ee718e874a86c1b98297dde203800ad7b114bdacda.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="2026013014010_ed52fe3248b54eb4f9f391ee718e874a86c1b98297dde203800ad7b114bdacda" data-rendition-name="original" width="2000" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Nepal election memes"> </figure>  At first, it looked like the RSP’s digital media presence was a joke aimed at getting easy-to-access publicity via the far-reaching arms of the algorithm. But it is looking like a carefully designed strategy promoting Balen Shah as the RSP’s star player in this election.&nbsp; In 2022, it was just for the mayor of Kathmandu. This time, Balen Shah is already being promoted in these videos as a winner who has defeated the legacy politicians.&nbsp; In previous elections in Nepal, political parties used to spend lavishly on the ‘masu bhat’ strategy — feeding heavy plates of mutton curry and rice to constituents in return for votes. Ideology was swapped for immediate caloric gratification often accompanied by free-flowing alcohol.&nbsp; But surely, the new voter is too sophisticated for this. Politicians insist they have rebooted their operating systems to serve this enlightened demographic. We are talking, after all, about the generation that brought down a government over 36 hours in September.&nbsp; The assumption is that young voters today are too aware and far too proud to trade democratic agency for something as crude as a plate of steaming mutton curry and rice.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026013014014_983476ba334f895b64cd8ea34bd0ad79c1632c428feb119c84477d8e929eb057.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="2026013014014_983476ba334f895b64cd8ea34bd0ad79c1632c428feb119c84477d8e929eb057" data-rendition-name="original" width="2000" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Nepal elections meme"> </figure>  But the question is: are voters today any different? Aren’t these social media memes digital versions of the masu bhat that delivers a dopamine rush to voters? Watching the videos is entertainment that delivers a state of bliss, a protest against what is old but no enlightenment about how to get to the new. &nbsp; The I-cannot-go-a-single-minute-without-checking-my-phone demographic has leaned firmly towards politicians whose main focus is to be a social media star first, and an accountable politician second. More than 70% of Nepalis have smartphones now and most are hooked on data plans. The public has acquired a taste for a different kind of masu bhat - the digital kind. Instead of being made to slurp up the free spicy, fatty goat curry with deep guttural satisfaction, voters are being made to swallow easy-to-digest online clips to make serious voting decisions.&nbsp; After all, it is more fun than paying attention to a candidate’s policy proposals and actually thinking critically about the candidates.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026013014014_eb3a9e0c50f4a47706a6695e78ae41556c3d9754c15d564d42fb0de3f4199999.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="2026013014014_eb3a9e0c50f4a47706a6695e78ae41556c3d9754c15d564d42fb0de3f4199999" data-rendition-name="original" width="2000" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Nepal elections meme"> </figure>  TURNING POINT An important moment for the evolution of this digital masu bhat is the 2020 pandemic. It was just six years ago that the entire population was cut off from physical interaction. The phone screen became the sole mediator of social existence.&nbsp; Technology changes what we see as important, and this prolonged immersion fundamentally alters our perception of reality, training us to accept the flattened, binary logic of the algorithm as a substitute for the complex, multisensory texture of political reality. What is on the phone has started to dictate the questions we ask and the answers we accept. If it is not on the phone, it is starting to look irrelevant. The memes manufacture consent. Gerontocratic politicians habituated to legacy media have not fathomed the implications of this new virtual world. Everyone has been swayed by a good story since the beginning of time. Now, the phone has allowed millions of Nepalis to tell, retell, consume, and remix stories that would traditionally have huge barriers to entry. Consider the vegetable vendor killing time between customers, Gen-Z youth with no memory of the Maoist conflict, or the grandad who cannot distinguish an AI video from real footage.&nbsp; When they finally step into the voting booth, what is guiding their hand? Is it a careful calculus of policy proposals, demonstrated competence, and leadership integrity? Or is it the cumulative impact of those AI-generated dopamine hits they have been fed on a loop? This digital fog of war cuts both ways. In a twist of supreme irony, actual footage of candidates behaving badly is now routinely dismissed as ‘AI-generated’ by their PR teams. This was a convenient get-out-of-jail-free card that Balen’s camp used when a video of him shoving cadres went viral.&nbsp; Meanwhile, completely fabricated tear-jerkers of old leaders like Prachanda weeping are consumed by the public as gospel truth. We have arrived at a point where the inconvenient real is dismissed as a glitch, and the emotional fake is embraced as history.&nbsp; In Society of the Spectacle, Guy Debord argued that images eventually replace real life. Today’s voters in Nepal and elsewhere are not even consuming the actual meat-and-bones of mutton curry; they are swallowing the 15 second digital imitations of it.&nbsp; Welcome to the age of digital मासु भात.

Nepal’s AI-generated election

We walk past familiar neighbourhoods and wonder how much it has changed. An ongoing exhibition at The Kalā Salon titled Changing Times by The Pagoda Group aims to do just that -- capture ever-changing society within a captivating display of colourful canvases. Brick-lined houses, local tea shops, ancient temples, quiet devotion are themes in Pradhumna Shrestha’s series Shangri-La, much of which is an imagined past filled with nostalgia of the place he grew up in. By keeping people out of the frame, he allows space for what he calls a divine aura to surface.&nbsp; “I was born and brought up here and my canvases echo the nostalgia of cities like Kathmandu, Bhaktapur, and Lalitpur which are dense with myth, folklore, religion, and an ever-present divinity. All of this is truly what is ours, and we must treasure it,” says Shrestha. “Whatever I truly felt in my heart, I translated it into my work.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260128100132_32a8f9e9816595f12ec0da357528feffbb249fd19adbb658c18e72e2b721f9df.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20260128100132_32a8f9e9816595f12ec0da357528feffbb249fd19adbb658c18e72e2b721f9df" data-rendition-name="original" width="1280" height="1036" loading="lazy" alt="The Kala Salon exhibition NT"> </figure>  The swirling clouds that drift across Shrestha’s canvases borrow from thangka and paubha traditions, lending the scenes a sense of mysticism and otherworldliness. Within this dreamscape are red circular forms which represent wheels of chariots. &nbsp;The presence of divinity dominates from above, its presence asserted in soft blue brushstrokes below, as if the deity’s gaze itself has seeped into the land. Gods linger as guardians and temples hum with enigma in his paintings. In his much earlier work, Cultural Bond, a lakhe masked dancer bursts forward in vibrant red, dancing against a backdrop of molten gold clouds. The lakhe’s trance signifies protection and where it steps, the evil cannot follow. Hence, the skulls that surround but never fall beneath its feet but, one leg hangs suspended in midair, suggesting uncertainty, raising questions.&nbsp; Is this a symbol of culture and tradition, secure, or is it endangered by modernity? The work captures a society at a crossroads, honouring tradition while grappling with the risk of drifting away from it.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260128100132_c78307920acc7b14fb9f469a011043661accec66c230b5e7587bcba0199bcbf1.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20260128100132_c78307920acc7b14fb9f469a011043661accec66c230b5e7587bcba0199bcbf1" data-rendition-name="original" width="979" height="1280" loading="lazy" alt="The Kala Salon exhibition NT"> </figure>  In Panchatatva Mandala, Pasang Bikram Lama fuses two mandalas into a single visual meditation, suggesting unity where each colour carries symbolic weight: yellow evokes the soil of the earth, blue flows as water, red burns with fire, and black opens into the vastness of the spatial sky. Together, these elements form a quiet cosmology that speaks of creation and dissolution, of life folding endlessly into death and returning again. Says Lama, “Everyone has a mandala of their own being, and the elements represent their cycle of life.” Mala Shrestha’s works Water of the Divine Mother and The Spirit of Serenity unfold in a dreamy and delicate fusion of nature and religion, suggesting that divine forms are not separate from the natural world. Trees and branch-like motifs appear as origins of sacred sculptures and spiritual presences.&nbsp; Her goddesses, adorned in alluring ornaments, emerge from trunks and streams, painted in aqua green, pink pastels, and rustic browns, as if grown rather than created, affirming that the divine is inseparable from nature and present everywhere.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260128100132_1f8cce84b4515a0d6d8b8fc169367bf5d39a7479c2c30038dafe90ec2bb3c4c9.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20260128100132_1f8cce84b4515a0d6d8b8fc169367bf5d39a7479c2c30038dafe90ec2bb3c4c9" data-rendition-name="original" width="4032" height="3024" loading="lazy" alt="The Kala Salon exhibition NT"> </figure>  Kishor Nakarmi’s Essence of Nepal, where Gautam Buddha appears embedded within leaves, brick walls, birds, and wilderness, dissolving boundaries between the sacred and the earthly. These canvases radiate calm and their subtlety is enriched by finely observed details. Similarly, Rudra Bahadur Pun captures the vitality of mask dances and ritual movements found in the monasteries of Mustang, weaving together tradition, landscape, and daily life. The essence of the exhibition comes together in Roshan Pradhan’s works. His paintings reflect a contemporary tension where technology collides with ancestral myth and the power of tradition. A fierce Garud rises within a landscape saturated by technological apparatuses, while at its feet a human form representing AI clings tightly, attempting to assert control.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260128100132_dc2c1ad4a4cefea6c6c7d02e9ed500309b7c862535247fe6451038e1d053d6b2.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20260128100132_dc2c1ad4a4cefea6c6c7d02e9ed500309b7c862535247fe6451038e1d053d6b2" data-rendition-name="original" width="4032" height="3024" loading="lazy" alt="The Kala Salon exhibition NT"> </figure>  In another work, Bhairab confronts a human embodiment of AI in a theatrical standoff, with the deity ultimately prevailing, reaffirming endurance over technological dominance. The human figures in Pradhan’s paintings are drawn from life with his friends volunteering as models, photographed and later translated onto canvas.&nbsp; “Technology has taken over our lives. Many can probably not even imagine life without it now. But, culture, too, is integral to human existence. Our life would be much different without our culture; it is a part of us,” notes the artist. Rather than framing technology as purely antagonistic, Pradhan explores coexistence, and while acknowledging its destructive potential, he affirms his belief in the power of our myths and traditions.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260128100132_bc831a663ca8977c39979a363a95bcae5e41cfe624d78152c546579caa3e680f.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20260128100132_bc831a663ca8977c39979a363a95bcae5e41cfe624d78152c546579caa3e680f" data-rendition-name="original" width="4032" height="3024" loading="lazy" alt="The Kala Salon exhibition NT"> </figure>  Pradhan adds, “These paintings are also an archive of its time. Viewers centuries from now may read these paintings as records of the age we inhabit. While technology is important, cultural continuity must walk alongside it. Festivals must still be celebrated, oral traditions must be sustained, and our roots must be remembered, especially by future generations.” Curator Sophia L Pande says the exhibition took more than a year to put together:&nbsp; “It responds to a shifting world, seeking to capture both transformation and the quiet fear of loss. Its themes move fluidly across environment, technology, artificial intelligence, and climate change, reflecting the diverse yet interconnected practices of the artists, providing a glimpse into the evolving landscape of contemporary Nepali art.” Changing Times The Kalā Salon Chhaya Centre, Thamel 11AM-8PM

Time, transience, transition

In December we headlined an analysis in this paper that the election was going to be a fight between <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/old-vs-new-in-2026-eyyt3itl">Old and New</a>. With just a month to go for polls, it is now looking more like New vs New.
The symbolic Balendra Shah vs K P Oli struggle has now been replaced by a face-off between Shah and Gagan Thapa, the new leader of the Nepali Congress (NC).
The Tarai with its vast vote bank has become the battleground for this fight with Shah contesting against Oli in Jhapa and Thapa standing in Sarlahi. And social media is the arena for this epic clash of personality cults.
Which means that instead of finding solutions to problems like health, education, jobs, inflation and social welfare, it is all about optics and stunts. AI-generated and algorithm-driven memes are influencing people’s choices.
“This is not democracy but a very morphed form of political consumerism where political men are selling their brand, and people are lapping that up,” says political scientist Sucheta Pyakuryal.&nbsp;
“Democracy is a way of life, it is not one size fits all, it doesn’t bully opposing voices, it is civilised, personable, tolerant.”
To be sure, Shah and Lamichhane claim to represent GenZ aspirations for cleaner and more efficient government, much like they did in 2022. But elections are expensive, and that is the root of corruption. Shah driving around Nepal in a flashy Defender SUV loaned by a noodle tycoon is proof to some that despite all the rhetoric of ‘new’ it is the same old crony-driven politics.
Author Mohan Mainali says party cadre used to mobilise voluntarily during campaigns, but Nepal’s elections have long stopped being about issues and ideology,
“But political parties lost their morality, and when their actions opposed their avowed principles, the spirit of elections was lost too,” Mainali says. “Cadre and crowds have to be rented, making elections more expensive, and it looks much worse this time around.”
Parties both old and new have moved so far away from what they promise in their manifestos, that it makes little sense to have them. All this means that this election is not so much about what the new candidates can do, but a protest vote against the tried, tested and failed legacy parties.
And that decision is made on the basis of ‘who’ rather than ‘what’. Who wins in Jhapa 5, for example, will determine the future course of Nepal. The winner there will eliminate one prime ministerial candidate, and then set up the possibility of a contest with Gagan Thapa.&nbsp;
“The real question is, can the RSP and NC, which have already declared their prime ministerial candidates muster majorities in Parliament?” Mainali muses. “In all likelihood no. The proportional representation vote is very important so people are tempted to vote based on who will be the next prime minister. But that is not how our system is supposed to work.”&nbsp;
Madhes Province has over 3.6 million voters, and more than half of Nepal’s population is in the Tarai. That can make or break the election for candidates. In the past parties have canvassed in the polls only to ignore the region once in power. And that goes for many Madhesi leaders themselves.
It was only after the 2015 federal republican Constitution that Madhes saw some representation, but it has been mostly sidelined in the GenZ protests.
In his analysis for the Annapurna Post this week, Birganj-based political commentator Chandrakishore writes that the Madhes should not just be a vote bank, but a political conscience for the nation.
‘Federalism has not favoured the Madhes, but it is the duty of the state. The parties that made the Constitution should tell us why federalism was weakened. The RSP should answer why it ignored the provincial structure in the past. The Madhes only wanted identity, representation, rights, and good governance,’ he wrote.
Indeed, it is ironic that the RSP that has been ambiguous on federalism, is now actively campaigning in the capital of federalism with Balendra Shah now capitalising on his plains ancestry — something he has not emphasised in the past.&nbsp;
“On one hand you say you want to remove provinces because there are too many positions which have become extremely costly for the state but you are also assuring your aides that there are plenty of positions to be doled out in the current federal structure,” says Sucheta Pyakuryal.
She adds: “You could forgo the ideology which we have done in Nepali politics for a long time now, you don’t even have to be a diehard socialist or liberal to enter the political arena but when even the lowest benchmarks such as basic decency and honesty are not met, how can you represent the people? We want representatives who look like us, sound like us, think like us, not brand names and saviours.”&nbsp;

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