This article discusses suicidal behaviour. If you have questions on self-harm or feel suicidal, Nepal’s national Suicide Prevention helpline is 1166. Use this link to find an <a href="https://findahelpline.com/" target="_blank">international helpline</a>.
Last year, my phone rang late at night. A colleague from a Kathmandu hospital was on the line, his voice sounded urgent. The patient was a 17-year-old boy who had ingested enough lethal pesticide to end life.
What was more shocking was not just his age, but the fact that this pesticide was banned in Nepal four years ago. On paper, it should no longer exist in the market. In reality, the banned substance is still available, sold discreetly to avoid regulators. But it is within easy reach of those in despair.
Despite the doctors’ best efforts, the boy could not be saved. His death left a family shattered, a community grieving. Another life lost to a poison that should not even be on the shelves?
The pesticide in question is aluminium phosphide, commonly sold in tablet form to protect stored grain from pests. It releases highly toxic phosphine gas when ingested, and it is this lethality that makes it one of the most common agents of self-harm in South Asia, including Nepal.
A 2021 study supported by the <a href="https://centrepsp.org/)" target="_blank">Center for Pesticide Suicide Prevention</a> at the University of Edinburgh showed aluminium phosphide as one of the most common agents for pesticide deaths in Nepal.
Recognising the negative effect of <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/playing-with-poison">highly hazardous pesticides to the environment and human health</a>, the Ministry of Agriculture and Livestock Development has banned 26 pesticides since 2001, including small aluminium phosphide tablets and dichlorvos in August 2019, and paraquat and chlorpyrifos in December 2024.&nbsp;
However, enforcement is weak.&nbsp;
<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/suicide-by-pesticide-in-nepal">Pesticide poisoning </a>is not an isolated health issue, it is a national crisis. In 2023-24, the total reported deaths from suicide in Nepal peaked at 7,223 — the highest number ever recorded. On average, 20 Nepalis die by suicide every day.&nbsp;
Some 15% of these deaths were caused by the ingestion of toxic substances, and nearly 95% of those involved highly hazardous pesticides. In rural areas, where most cases occur, pesticides are often more accessible than healthcare or counselling.
To be sure, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/breaking-the-pesticide-suicide-link">pesticide-related suicide deaths</a> have generally declined over the past few years, falling from 1,276 in 2020-21 to 932 in 2022-23. Last year, there was a slight increase to 952, but the overall trend shows a significant and sustained public health improvement.&nbsp;
Deaths from dichlorvos poisoning have decreased markedly, research shows. However, fatalities linked to aluminum phosphide have not declined significantly.
Behind every number is a story: a young student overwhelmed by exam pressure, a farmer drowning in debt, a mother caught in a family dispute. In moments of despair, access to a lethal poison often determines whether a person survives or dies.
<a href="https://centrepsp.org/country-success-stories" target="_blank">Research worldwide</a> shows that restricting access to highly hazardous pesticides significantly reduces suicide deaths, without increasing the use of other methods.
Suicide is complicated, influenced by mental health issues, family problems, and financial stress. But the method makes all the difference. In Nepal, many pesticide-related suicides are impulsive, carried out in moments of crisis when lethal pesticides are within reach.&nbsp;
When a deadly poison is easy to get, survival is unlikely. If it is removed, people may still try to harm themselves, but their chances of survival are much higher. This chance can be the difference between life and death, despair and recovery.
Preventing suicide in Nepal requires action on many fronts: strictly enforcing pesticide bans and holding violators accountable, closely monitoring pesticide sales and stocks, supporting poison centres to help doctors treat poisoning cases quickly, providing community mental health services to find and assist people at risk, and raising public awareness to reduce stigma around mental health and encourage families to seek help.
The crisis in Nepal reflects a broader global challenge. The World Health Organization estimates that pesticides account for nearly one in five suicides worldwide. Low-and middle-income countries bear the heaviest burden, particularly in agrarian societies where pesticides are stored in homes.
As we mark the World Mental Health Day on 10 October, Nepal has both an urgent responsibility and an opportunity to show leadership. By committing not just to policy but to real enforcement, Nepal can save thousands of lives in the years to come.
It is unacceptable that young Nepalis continue to die from poisons that should no longer exist in our communities. Regulators, policymakers, health workers, and civil society must work together to close the gap between law and practice.
The 17-year-old boy from Bagmati should have had his whole life ahead of him. Instead, he is now just another statistic in Nepal’s <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/suicide-watch">preventable tragedy of pesticide suicides</a>. For him and countless others like him, we must ensure that deadly poisons are truly off our shelves.
Rakesh Ghimire, MD, is a clinical pharmacologist and assistant professor at Institute of Medicine in Kathmandu. He is the recipient of the 2025 Mrigendra Raj Pandey Young Health Research Award.

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Preventing suicide by pesticide in Nepal

Pesticide use in Nepal has surged tenfold since 2000 despite its risk to human and environmental health – with Nepal’s women, indigenous and disadvantaged castes most affected.&nbsp; Till 2022, 164 chemicals had been registered for use, most of them to boost vegetables production and the rest for cereal grains. Many of the pesticides in Nepal fall under Class II of the WHO classification, and are categorised as toxic.&nbsp; While the use of pesticides ensures fewer pests, more yield, and greater income in the short term, they degrade land, water, soil — and most importantly, human health over time.&nbsp; Humans are exposed to pesticides through ingestion, inhalation, or by direct skin contact, all of which can lead to acute and chronic illnesses. Some symptoms such as rashes, nausea, and headache can appear immediately, but more chronic problems like birth defects, reproductive and nerve disorders, and cancers develop over time. &nbsp; Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/from-the-nepali-press/banned-pesticides-are-widely-used-in-nepal">Banned pesticides are widely used in Nepal</a>, Ramu Sapkota  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240523140512_5aea4c5d9c1b1c584800b0412e7adea326d602687e193d079fe9e7b5932d7ffd.png" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20240523140512_5aea4c5d9c1b1c584800b0412e7adea326d602687e193d079fe9e7b5932d7ffd" data-rendition-name="original" width="1280" height="802" loading="lazy" alt="Pesticide graph NT"> <figcaption>Pesticide imports from 1998 to 2022.</figcaption> </figure>  Most research treats farmers as a homogenous group, but while most benefits flow towards better-off farmers, the burdens fall on society’s most vulnerable. Indeed, beyond the green fields and big harvests that pesticides hide the disproportionate impact of pesticides on marginalised communities. Women, Janjati and Dalit households which have lower literacy and income tend to have higher exposure to toxic pesticides. Often, people from these communities are unable to read toxicity labels on pesticide containers and cannot afford safety gear.&nbsp; Nepali women bear the brunt of farming and agricultural work without having decision-making power. &nbsp;They have to overlook the health risks associated with pesticide use during pregnancy, postpartum periods, and menstruation cycles. Women might also often ignore proper safety measures for handling toxic materials.&nbsp; “Many older women dress inappropriately,” said a female health volunteer who was interviewed for a 2021 study in Kavre that involved farmers. “I see many with their masks on, and a few with full-sleeved clothes and gloves, but almost none wearing the PPE. Skin contact with chemicals is high.”&nbsp; Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/multimedia/the-organic-uncle-of-chitwan">The ‘Organic Uncle’ of Chitwan</a>, Anita Bhetwal  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240523140512_258f3280501ea018a66f0ae5ee6407db7a90730d3dcc8537eeb5122aec82fd62.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20240523140512_258f3280501ea018a66f0ae5ee6407db7a90730d3dcc8537eeb5122aec82fd62" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Pesticide use in Nepal NT"> <figcaption>Fields in Kuntabesi. Photos: KISHOR ATREYA</figcaption> </figure>  She suspects this ignorance of proper safety procedures has increased women’s exposure to toxic pesticides, leading to a rise in uterine cancer cases in Kavre. The men may be more aware of the dangers of toxic pesticides, but express confidence that they are immune to the effects of exposure to such chemicals. Some even boast they can digest pesticides if swallowed. “I have tasted Dithane fungicide and nothing happened to me,” bragged one farmer. &nbsp;“It is suffocating to wear PPE while working in the field,” camplained another. &nbsp; Read also: <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/heavy-pesticide-use-and-low-consumer-awareness-affecting-public-health,1394">Lethal veggies</a> , Sonia Awale  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240523140512_14c675833e11d2d4925ca6339383dd7c3b9dcf6ec090728b5696cd6f30ce0b93.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20240523140512_14c675833e11d2d4925ca6339383dd7c3b9dcf6ec090728b5696cd6f30ce0b93" data-rendition-name="original" width="1654" height="867" loading="lazy" alt="Pesticide use in Nepal NT"> <figcaption>A farmer applies pesticide in a paddy field.</figcaption> </figure>  This casual disregard for safety while dealing with toxic pesticide exposure is alarming and is responsible for premature deaths in farmer families. Pesticides also create health and environmental burdens, disproportionately affecting vulnerable caste groups, while worsening economic and caste disparities.&nbsp; Most Brahmin and Chhetri households generally own land that is more productive than other groups which they rent out to farmers from underserved castes. Such farmers then face greater exposure to pesticides.&nbsp; For Dalit and Janjati communities that rent land that they till, it has become the norm to apply higher doses of pesticides in greater frequency in order to increase yield and try to maximise their profit.&nbsp; They also lack safety tools. Sometimes they do not see them as important, or cannot afford them. Many Dalit households do not even own a spray tank, and practice open mixing and loading of pesticides. Farmers from the Danuwar community in Kavre point out that their traditional Thitri fishing method is not practiced any more. Until the early 2000s, the Danuwar wove basket-like fishing traps called Thitri from gooseberry or bamboo sticks and left them overnight on the edges of the overflow channels of paddy terraces to collect basketfuls of fish come morning.&nbsp; Read also: <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=16290#.XTlqVvIzbIU" target="_blank">You are what you eat</a>, Katy Elliot  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240523140516_f0c3011a1c112b88250dae51bd1475589af135a159b68cc0a626136458aec483.jpg" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="20240523140516_f0c3011a1c112b88250dae51bd1475589af135a159b68cc0a626136458aec483" data-rendition-name="original" width="1332" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Pesticide use in Nepal NT"> <figcaption>A vegetable field during winter. Photo: KANCHAN KATTEL</figcaption> </figure>  “My father and elder brother practised Thitri every summer,” a young interviewee told us. “They brought fish for us and we sold the excess. Some neighbours sold about 30kg of fish every season.”&nbsp; There was an unwritten rule that while the crops were for their landlords, the fish were for the Danuwar community. The fish have now disappeared from fields and rivers, and with it the Thitri tradition because of pesticides. &nbsp; The chemicals can kill invertebrates in soil and water even at safe levels. But in Nepal, users neither recognise nor apply safe levels of pesticides, which results in the irreversible destruction of the ecosystem from soil organisms, frogs, fish, and snakes.&nbsp; The future of agriculture in Nepal will depend on how we treat our ecosystem, and especially their impact on vulnerable communities. The social and environmental costs of pesticide use can be addressed by pursuing viable alternatives that prioritise public health and ensure environmental sustainability.&nbsp; Read also: <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=17728">Preventable poisoning</a>, Buddha Basnyat This article is based on a chapter from an upcoming book Environmental Justice in Nepal: Origins, Struggles, and Prospects.&nbsp; Kanchan Kattel is a PhD researcher at the Department of Nutrition and Public Health, University of Agder, Norway. Kishor Atreya is an Associate Professor at the Institute of Forestry, Tribhuvan University.

Playing with poison

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110151112/636d06d69c7e80680e0a5f88jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="3200" height="2133"/><figcaption>All photos: KRISHNA MANI BARAL</figcaption></figure>Monsoon <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/monsoon-submerges-kathmandu-roads/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">floods</a> usually bring death and destruction, but that is not necessarily bad news for the vultures of Pokhara Valley which feed on carrion of dead animals brought down by Himalayan rivers.The vigorous start to <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/after-the-deluge-in-nepal/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">the monsoon rains</a> has caused floods across central Nepal to overflow, and triggered landslides that have blocked highways. While this has brought misery to humans, the raptors are on a feeding frenzy.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110151112/636d06d99c7e80680e0a5f89jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="3200" height="1546"><figcaption>A dog chases away a flock of Himalayan griffon and White-rumped vultures on the bank of Pokhara’s Fhusre River.</figcaption></figure>Because of its low elevation and proximity to the Annapurna which are over 8,000m high, Pokhara is home to all nine species of the vultures found in South Asia. The temperature is just right, not too hot or cold for the bird.The Valley’s terrain is also ideal for vultures which soar on the updrafts, and circle looking for food on the ground. Paragliders imitate the soaring vultures, often accompanying the birds above Sarangkot, and Pokhara has become a favourite international destination for <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=6573" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">the sport</a>.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110151112/636d06dc9c7e80680e0a5f8ajpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2600" height="1733"><figcaption>Vulture and paragliders on one frame in Pokhara’s Sarangkot.</figcaption></figure>At a Jatayu Restaurant in Kaski’s Ghachok, one can easily spot 5-6 different species of the vultures on a daily basis. Globally critically endangered Slender-billed and White-rumped vultures have been nesting and rearing their young ones in Nirmal Pokhari and Bharat Pokhari areas for years.Although <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=17991#.YO0bTy2B0b0" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">vulture populations</a> in Nepal’s mountains appear stable, they are declining in the plains and across South Asia. Indiscriminate poisoning of stray animals using lethal pesticides is ending up in the feed of the raptors, leading to their mass deaths.In April, <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepals-vultures-between-existence-and-extinction/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">69 vultures of four species</a> (White-rumped, Himalayan Griffons, Cinereous and Slender-billed), two of them on the IUCN list of critically endangered birds were found dead on the grounds of a college campus in Nawalparasi.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110151112/636d06df9c7e80680e0a5f8bjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="3200" height="2133"><figcaption></figcaption></figure>Initial investigation found the cause of the death to be pesticide poisoning of dogs, on which the vultures fed. The incident was a huge setback to <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/nepal-is-a-model-for-vulture-conservation/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Nepal’s successful effort to protect the birds from</a> the brink of extinction after they started dying mysteriously in the 1990s.An analgesic called Diclofenac used to treat sick livestock was found to be the cause of decline. Just 30ml of Diclofenac can kill as many as 800 vultures. Subsequently, <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=14763#.YO0b0i2B0b0" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">the steroid was banned</a> in South Asia and Nepal in 2006.Since then, local communities and nature groups in the country have worked relentlessly to recover the vulture population, the most notable of which is the setting up of ‘vulture restaurants’ that serve safe, uncontaminated meat for the raptors to feed on.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110151112/636d06e39c7e80680e0a5f8cjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="3200" height="1917"><figcaption>Vultures feeding on a carcass of an ox by the Fhusre River.</figcaption></figure>There are now over half a dozen <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=19320#.YO0bSi2B0b0" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">feeding centres ‘Jatayu’ Restaurants</a> in Nawalparasi, Rupandehi, Dang, Kailali, Kaski and Sunsari districts across the Tarai and foothills. The effort saw a significant revival of the vulture population in Nepal, which had declined from 1.6 million to 20,000 individuals.Vultures get a bad rap but are an integral part of the ecosystem, they protect humans and animals alike from various diseases by feeding on carcasses. In recent times, there has been a shortage of food as well as shelter. Death due to high-voltage electric shock is also on the rise.

Vultures swing back in Pokhara

<figure><img width="1500" height="842" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109101116/636b70529c7e80680e060071jpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption>Photo: SONIA AWALE</figcaption></figure>Michael Eddleston is a professor of Clinical Toxicology at the University of Edinburgh with over two decades of experience in suicide by ingesting pesticide. He is also the director of Centre for Pesticide Suicide Prevention and was recently in Nepal as a principal investigator of a research analysing self-poisoning in the country. Excerpts of his conversation with Nepali Times.Nepali Times: What is pesticide suicide?Michael Eddleston: All of us feel suicidal from time to time. Unless you are very depressed or have a mental illness, you survive the feeling and move on with your life. The green revolution brought highly toxic pesticides into homes that people drank in the moment of impulse without a second thought. Suicide rates went up massively in Asia because spontaneous acts of self-harm became lethal. These are accidental suicides, people don’t really want to die, drinking pesticide or a poison in many parts of Asia is an expression of anger or frustration.What is the burden of pesticide suicide in the region?Pesticide suicides have killed some 15 million people, mostly in this region of South and East Asia since the 1960s. The numbers have come down to about 150,000 people a year. China alone used to have 180,000 pesticide suicides per year back in the 1990s and it has come down to 50,000, partly due to mechanisation and restriction of Highly Hazardous Pesticides (HHP). In Nepal, 15-20% of suicides are from ingesting pesticides and about 1,000 people die every year. Read also: <a style="font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/suicide-by-pesticide-in-nepal/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Suicide by pesticide in Nepal</a>, Sonia Awale<a style="font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepals-suicide-rate-vastly-underestimated/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Nepal's suicide rate vastly underestimated</a>, Sewa BhattaraiDo not shy away from seeking help. If you, or anyone you know, would like to speak to a trained mental health professional, please contact:TUTH Suicide Hotline: 9840021600Transcultural Psychosocial Organization-Nepal Crisis Hotline: 1660 0102005Mental Health Helpline Nepal: 1660 0133666What can we do about it?Ideally we could move away from all pesticides like Sikkim has done with natural farming. But this might take time so for now the simplest answer is to ban HHPs and replace them with less toxic chemicals. So when people take poison, it’s not toxic and they don’t die. There’s a clear data from Sri Lanka, Bangladesh and South Korea showing that when you ban just a few particular pesticides which people are commonly using for self-harm, the suicide rate falls rapidly and remarkably without affecting agriculture output. Sri Lanka banned Monocrotophos and Methamidophos in 1995 and in the next 20 years there was 70% reduction in all suicides saving around 93,000 lives at a cost of $50 per lives saved. This is one of the most effective public interventions from anywhere in the world. So legislation does work.What are the most toxic pesticides in Nepal? Dichlorvos and 3g tablets of Aluminium phosphide are the most hazardous pesticides in Nepal and the good news is that both of these have been addressed by the government already, they were recently banned. We are also identifying another toxic compound, a combination of Chlorpyrifos and Cypermethrin. What we have seen from case studies elsewhere is that after each ban something new always comes up but we have also found that they always kill less than those prior pesticides. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Dy5SX0RnYhA&amp;feature=youtu.beHow can we be sure people won’t go for another method after the ban?Yes, people often argue that pesticide bans don’t work, they will simply do something else. But that something else is often further away. I can walk to a tree to hang myself or to jump off a bridge but by that time I get there I might get bored, meet a friend on the way or get distracted one way of the other. Pesticides have high toxicity because they are hazardous and close by but if you switch to something else it will always be less toxic. And what we have seen in Sri Lanka is that when you ban pesticides, people don’t switch to other things and don’t attempt suicide again because they are not intended to begin with. But are you not treating a symptom rather than a disease, which is mental illness?Yes I accept that we are not dealing with the cause, but with the symptom but I want people to live. If you don’t live, you can’t see your psychiatrist. And it is not purely mental health. It’s also about culture and communication. If I have no other way of telling people how angry or upset I am, then I will stand in front of you and drink a bottle of pesticide to tell you how I feel. It is the same in the UK, Nepal and Sri Lanka. The only difference is the lethality of method. So I can’t stop suicide or self-harm as an individual but I can stop people from dying after self-harm, which means they get a chance to seek help if necessary.It’s a concept of harm minimisation, it’s not stopping people from self-harm because it’s difficult to change human behaviour and how people direct their anger and violence towards themselves or other people but we can make it safe. Which groups are more vulnerable?When we look at the patterns of self-harm, it’s found among young women between 15-20 years of age more than in anybody else. Women are generally sober and take a very small dose of poison. If you get rid of HHPs, these women suicides fall away and that was the case in China and Sri Lanka. Middle-aged men have more deaths because they tend to be intoxicated when they take poison and they take it in a higher dose so even if it’s a less toxic poison, the higher dose is enough to kill them. Suicide is a combination of people harming themselves and lethality of the method. How has the progress been in Nepal so far?Pesticide suicide in Nepal is comparatively smaller but that is also probably due to the number of bans the government has implemented over the last 15 years. Methyl parathion was a huge problem here in the 1990s and 2000s until it was banned and now there are no cases of suicides using this pesticide. It has been replaced more recently by Dichlorvos but that was also recently banned and will be out of shops in couple of years. There has been a remarkable changes going on here in Nepal to remove the most toxic pesticides and replace them with less hazardous alternatives. Tell us about your work here in Nepal.What we are trying to do in Nepal is work with our clinical colleagues, Nepal Public Health Foundation and the police laboratories to identify the most problematic pesticides that are killing people in Nepal and once we identify those, we will take that information to the concerned authorities and see how they want to move with that. Nepal has made a success and has thought about pesticide suicide carefully. What we are doing is bringing the focus on suicide and showing how to get rid of accidental suicides.

Suicide Watch

<figure><img width="1500" height="1000" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109101116/636b70369c7e80680e060067jpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption>A customer buys a bottle of pesticide over a counter in Kathmandu. Photo: MONIKA DEUPALA</figcaption></figure>Of the 25,308 <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/down-and-out,3158" target="_blank" rel="noopener">suicides</a> recorded by the police in Nepal in the past five years, poisoning was the method of choice of 6,213 and pesticides were the most common form of poison used. Suicide by <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=17916#.XhbkaVUzaUk" target="_blank" rel="noopener">pesticides</a> is the easiest, cheapest and the quickest way to kill oneself in Nepal.A <a href="https://bmcpublichealth.biomedcentral.com/articles/10.1186/s12889-017-4542-y" target="_blank" rel="noopener">2015 study in Chitwan</a> showed that 90% of all poisoning cases resulted from deliberate ingestion of pesticides. Hospital and forensic data over the years reveal that pesticide self-poisoning kills at least 1,000 people in Nepal annually.“Pesticides are in fact a far greater threat than what police records show. There are many people who make the attempt and survive due to insufficient dose or medical treatment,” says Ravi Shakya, a mental health specialist at Patan Hospital. “If we also count attempted suicides, pesticide is the most preferred method of suicide in Nepal.”Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepals-suicide-rate-vastly-underestimated/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Nepal's suicide rate vastly underestimated, </a>Sewa BhattaraiShailesh Thapa Chhetri of Nepal Police agrees: “Previously, hanging used to be the most common method of suicide, as people had the easiest access to ropes. Now, access to pesticides is even easier. Almost every household has pesticides, whether to kill cockroaches or to spray in the farms.”Do not shy away from seeking help. If you, or anyone you know, would like to speak to a trained mental health professional, please contact:TUTH Suicide Hotline: 9840021600Transcultural Psychosocial Organization-Nepal Crisis Hotline: 1660 0102005Mental Health Helpline Nepal: 1660 0133666And as the import of pesticides increases, the hazardous chemicals will only be more accessible for self-harm. The Ministry of Agriculture and Livestock Development claims that Nepal’s pesticide consumption is 396g per hectare but research by the Netherlands-based Wageningen University shows it to be <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/from-the-nepali-press/banned-pesticides-are-widely-used-in-nepal/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">2.9kg per hectare in vegetable patches</a>. “Pesticides that kill people are readily available in the market, they do not need prescriptions and anyone can buy it,” says Dilli Ram Sharma, former Director General of the Department of Agriculture. “To make matters worse, farmers <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/pesticide-laced-vegetables-continue-to-poison,1555" target="_blank" rel="noopener">always go for the most toxic ones</a> that kill all pests at once.”Read also: <a style="font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/suicide-watch/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Suicide watch</a> <figure><img width="1500" height="844" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109101116/636b70399c7e80680e060068jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>A <a href="http://www.forensic.gov.np/assets/upload/images/pdf/Trends-of-clinical-toxicology-cases-in-Nepal.pdf" target="_blank" rel="noopener">2014 National Forensic Science Laboratory study</a> that looked at the trends of clinical toxicology cases in Nepal from 2002-2012 showed that of the total poisoning cases due to insecticides, 71% were by ingesting the organophosphorus compounds Metacid (Methyl parathion) and Nuvan (Dichlorovos). Pyrethroid, carbamate and organochlorine were also used. Some of these pesticides are actually banned in Nepal, but available over the counter. A Central Police Forensic Science Laboratory study conducted over the past three years shows organophosphorus compounds and aluminium phosphide as the most common active ingredients in poisoning cases. Data from seven tertiary hospitals across Nepal found Celphos (aluminium phosphide used to kill rodents) as the most common pesticide in those admitted for poisoning. The <a href="https://www.centrepsp.org/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Centre for Pesticide Suicide Prevention</a> in collaboration with the University of Edinburgh and Nepal Public Health Foundation is collecting three years worth of hospital and forensic data to analyse self-poisoning. Prof Michael Eddleston of the University of Edinburgh is the principal investigator and was recently in Nepal. “I don’t think it’s ever possible to use pesticide safely. You have to make pesticides non-toxic to humans, animals and the environment. We are trying to identify the problematic pesticides that are killing people here and provide that information to the concerned authorities so that they are banned and replaced with safer pesticides,” Eddleston told Nepali Times.The Nepal Public Health Foundation is also organising a two-day national conference (9-10 January) focussed on <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/rooftop-gardens-kathmandu,1415" target="_blank" rel="noopener">healthy farming</a> and reducing pesticide use.Indeed Bangladesh, Korea and Sri Lanka have shown that removing highly hazardous pesticides from <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/heavy-pesticide-use-and-low-consumer-awareness-affecting-public-health,1394" target="_blank" rel="noopener">agricultural practice</a> is key to preventing suicide deaths without affecting agricultural output. The good news is that some of the most toxic pesticides are being banned in Nepal. In 2019, when the Centre for Pesticide Suicide Prevention pinpointed Dichlorvos and 3g tablets of aluminium phosphide as the most common causes of pesticide suicide in Nepal, the Plant Quarantine and Pesticide Management Centre placed a ban on both the pesticides, to be enforced after a grace period of two years for the chemicals already on the market.  Similarly, before Metacid (Methyl parathion) was prohibited in 2006, up to 68% of Nepalis killing themselves were using the chemical. After the ban, this figure came down to 8%.“Prevention is better than cure and that is exactly what pesticide ban does. And this has a double benefit: it reduces suicide death while also bringing down the rampant use of pesticides in agriculture, leading to a decline in pesticide residue,” adds Sharma, who retired after banning the two pesticides.Despite the ban, however, the smuggling of pesticides across the open border with India remains a challenge, and experts call for crossborder cooperation to fight it.  Says Rakesh Ghimire of Teaching Hospital: “Control of pesticides especially in agricultural areas is important, but as important is pesticide information centres and treatment when the poisoning happens.”

Sonia Awale

Suicide by pesticide in Nepal

This year, the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/quo-vadis-un-80-9vthn7mg">United Nations is marking its 80th anniversary</a> and it is being celebrated with special events across the world to commemorate its establishment on 24 October 1945. It has also been 75 years since the first UN adviser, the Swiss geologist Toni Hagen, was sent to Nepal to explore development opportunities. In 1950, there were no roads and Hagen walked on foot across the length and breadth of Nepal’s mountains, valleys and plains. This year also marks the 60th anniversary of the United Nations Development Program (UNDP) in Nepal, and much of Hagen’s work laid the basis for the UN’s involvement in education, health, and connectivity in Nepal’s future development. Despite frequent changes in government and political system, Nepal has made remarkable progress. The poverty rate has gone down by half in the past 30 years to 20.27% of the population. Much of it has to do with remittances from Nepalis working overseas, but it is also a result of the Nepal government’s investment in education, health care and social welfare.&nbsp; There have been special initiatives like the Prime Minister’s Employment Program that have provided jobs to nearly 800,000 people in the country’s 743 municipalities — especially in those areas with lower Human Development Index (HDI) like the far-west and the Tarai.&nbsp; This year’s HDI report by UNDP shows that Nepal’s score had risen to 0.622, whereas it was only 0.404 in 1990. In the past 33 years, the average lifespan of Nepalis has risen by 15.6 years to 70.4 years, whereas it was only 54.8 in 1990. However, the country’s HDI ranking is still 145 among the world’s 193 countries. “Yes, there has been significant improvement in living standards in the past 60 years, road connectivity has improved, the maternal mortality rate has gone down dramatically, almost everyone has phones, there are schools,” says Saru Joshi of the thinktank Nepal Policy Institute. But, she adds: “It is still difficult to get citizenship papers, especially in the name of the mother, and this has excluded many women from banking services, inheritance. After all our progress in physical infrastructure, Nepal now needs to prioritise inclusive social development.”&nbsp; Some of this is also happening. Eighteen years ago, Nabaraj Subedi, 49, of a village in Baglung decided not to join his peers &nbsp;fleeing the Maoist conflict to find work overseas. He invested Rs500,000 to buy a diesel generator and start a small furniture business.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251024071044_eeef308e19a73de507a425b2c6afc47269884549cf4c8fac07ca9a4898c8e031.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20251024071044_eeef308e19a73de507a425b2c6afc47269884549cf4c8fac07ca9a4898c8e031" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Nawaraj Subedi"> <figcaption>Nawaraj Subedi, 49, proprietor of Tarakhola Furniture Factory. </figcaption> </figure>  Today, with the installation of the 380 kilowatt small hydroelectric plant, he does not need to depend on his unreliable generator to power his equipment anymore. There is now a road connecting his village, and Subedi has generated local jobs, opened a sales branch in the city, and gets orders from as far away as Pokhara and Chitwan. “My costs have gone down drastically because of the electricity, and sales have gone up because of the road connecting my furniture to markets. My business has expanded,” Subedi says. Back in 1960 in a report he prepared for the Nepal government on behalf of the United Nations, Toni Hagen had emphasised just this: investing in electricity generation and connectivity to uplift the remote rural areas of Nepal.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251024081024_188ab121dc3cf2816ee71a72cb3687493eda37ab99ecc04802d647c8c9b4cd2d.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20251024081024_188ab121dc3cf2816ee71a72cb3687493eda37ab99ecc04802d647c8c9b4cd2d" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Tarakhola Furniture Factory"> <figcaption>Subedi's staff at the Tarakhola Furniture Factory.</figcaption> </figure>  Subedi’s furniture factory gets its electricity from the nearby Tarakhola Hydropower, a company set up eight years ago with financial and technical support from UNDP’s Renewable Energy for Rural Livelihood (RERL) project. &nbsp; “The project completely transformed living standards in this village,” says municipality chair Dhan Bahadur BK. “It has helped create jobs locally, there is now money to invest in education and healthcare. Households can pay their electricity fees electronically through smart billing.”&nbsp; After working with the government on rural electrification, UNDP is focussed on using that power for local employment creation. A women’s group, for example, has bought an electric-powered potato processing machine that can produce chips.&nbsp; “We are 12 of us mothers, daughters, daughters-in-law who process, package and market the potato that we grow ourselves, and it has raised our income,” says Sukmaya Roka, 57, who chairs the group.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251024071044_70b22418699178bcdd0abb0aa308796980ecd29634bcda6ff113a7624e709751.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20251024071044_70b22418699178bcdd0abb0aa308796980ecd29634bcda6ff113a7624e709751" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Sukamaya Roka"> <figcaption>Sukamaya Roka, 57, chair of Sipa Aalu Chips Utpadan Samuha from Tarakhola Rural Municipality, Baglung. </figcaption> </figure>  Today, 6.1 million households in Nepal (92.2% of total) have electricity in their homes, up from 17.9% 30 years ago. Access to electricity has not just brought lights to homes, but improved everything from productivity, quality of education, healthcare and phone connectivity.&nbsp; “To see what electricity and roads can do, just look at our municipality,” says chair Dhan Bahadur BK, “citizens have become more self-reliant, more aware of the outside world.”&nbsp; NETTLES INTO CASH&nbsp; Just a little bit of training, resource backup and local empowerment can uplift the living standards of Nepalis. The progress made in harvesting abundantly-available allo (nettles) and turning it into household products is an example. When a landslide swept away his home and farm in a flood 40 years ago, Buddhi Purja of Parbat became destitute. But he took part in a government training program supported by UNDP and Australia to harvest the wild nettles that grew on mountain slopes and turn the fabric into bags.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251024071048_56c440c478dffbc13911369b6f4133baf658cc3667773cdb44b7c40e006463ce.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20251024071048_56c440c478dffbc13911369b6f4133baf658cc3667773cdb44b7c40e006463ce" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Rhitu Saugat Handicraft"> <figcaption>A worker at Rhitu Saugat Handicraft making a bag out of nettles.</figcaption> </figure>  “After the landslide, we had to go hungry if we did not get a day job,” Purja recalls, “but after this training we have found that we can turn nettles into cash.” His allo bags are now hanging in tourist shops in Pokhara Lakeside and Thamel.&nbsp; The idea that nettles can be processed into useful fabric has not spread across the country, and new ecologically conscious consumers in Europe and elsewhere now import Made in Nepal nettle products.&nbsp; Purja started out with an investment of Rs500,000, and had a Rs20 million business that employed 25 workers. The Covid crisis in 2020 affected the sales, but Purja has recovered from it, sent his daughter off to study abroad, and is thinking of diversifying his product range.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251024071044_ab6d15abcbb9a643e12a384f4bc488b7e210a8c95303fbe1b2f77716d26eede9.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20251024071044_ab6d15abcbb9a643e12a384f4bc488b7e210a8c95303fbe1b2f77716d26eede9" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Buddi Purja"> <figcaption>Buddi Purja, proprietor of Rhitu Saugat Handicraft in Pokhara.</figcaption> </figure>  While UNDP’s project has made successful businessmen out of people like Purja, nationwide it has created 187,000 jobs in rural medium-scale industries. Much of what has worked in Nepal has been at the community level with decentralised projects like these that use the entrepreneurship of people like Buddhi Purja, Navaraj Subedi, and Sukmaya Roka. It is tantalising to imagine how much more progress Nepal would have made if their work could be replicated nationside and upscaled to the state-level.

Think locally, invest locally

Public anxiety about immigration has become a powerful political currency across many liberal democracies. In Australia, as elsewhere, legitimate concerns about housing and economic fairness can be, and increasingly are exploited by anti-democratic actors who frame migration not as a policy issue but as a cultural threat.&nbsp;
When these narratives move from online spaces to public rallies, they do more than divide opinion; they erode the social trust and pluralism on which democracy depends. Understanding how populist and far-right movements weaponise migration debates is crucial to recognising the early challenging signs of liberal democracy.
Immigration has become one of the most politically charged issues in Australia, not only because of the numbers but because of its entanglement with cost-of-living pressures, housing shortages, and rent spikes.&nbsp;
The latest Household, Income and Labour Dynamics in Australia (HILDA) <a href="https://www.unimelb.edu.au/newsroom/news/2025/september/how-we-live-latest-hilda-data-gives-insight-into-a-changing-australia">data</a> shows rising household financial stress as Australian households spending more on rent and income tax. These changes likely reflect a mix of economic and policy factors but create a lot of room for people to hold inaccurate and occasionally contradictory attitudes on these issues.&nbsp;
While net overseas migration has started to decline from its post-pandemic peak, public concern remains high, amplified by populist rhetoric. Some surveys have <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/australia-news/2025/feb/04/australians-want-less-migration-but-oppose-cutting-international-student-numbers-study-finds">revealed</a> a nuanced picture: most Australians want lower migration overall but oppose cutting international student numbers, and support targeted skilled migration to address workforce gaps.&nbsp;
As former Home Affairs Minister Clare O’Neil <a href="https://minister.homeaffairs.gov.au/ClareONeil/Pages/how-australia-broke-its-migration-system.aspx">argued</a> in 2023, Australia’s migration system is “broken and un-strategic”, not delivering for business, for migrants, or for the larger population. This is a situation that frustrates both sides of the debate and makes immigration an easy political flashpoint.
The recent <a href="https://marchforaustralia.org/">March for Australia</a> rallies turned these anxieties into street-level mobilisation. Tens of thousands <a href="https://www.bbc.com/news/articles/czjmre371l1o">protested</a> at what they called ‘mass immigration’, while far-right groups seized the opportunity to inject xenophobic slogans and calls for ‘remigration’ into the public space. These demonstrations were not only about visa caps or housing and jobs; they became performances of who is entitled to belong.&nbsp;
When immigration is framed not as a policy question but as a cultural test of Australianness, it risks shrinking the demos, the very community that democracy is meant to represent.
What made the March for Australia so striking was not only its size but its composition. Recent investigative reporting <a href="https://www.theage.com.au/politics/victoria/don-t-mention-hitler-and-you-re-sweet-the-great-march-for-australia-deception-20250909-p5mtlc.html">revealed</a> that neo-Nazi groups were not merely present at the March for Australia rallies but played a role in covertly organising them. They amplified messaging online, coordinated attendance, and sought to mask their involvement to broaden appeal.&nbsp;
This highlights that democratic erosion is rarely spontaneous; it requires actors who deliberately exploit social grievances, mistrust, and polarisation to mobilise anger for their anti-democratic ends. The banners reading ‘<a href="https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2025/sep/01/how-do-i-feel-safe-after-march-for-australia-anti-immigration-protest-ntwnfb">Stop Immigration</a>’ revealed that public hostility towards migrants, <a href="https://www.afr.com/politics/federal/pressure-mounts-for-price-to-apologise-to-indian-australians-20250908-p5mt7x">particularly</a> from the Indo-Pacific, is growing.
For many migrants, these displays are more than conceptual debates about white national identity. They are experienced emotionally. Writing shortly after the rallies, Melbourne-based writer Jafrin Kabir <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2025/sep/01/how-do-i-feel-safe-after-march-for-australia-anti-immigration-protest-ntwnfb">reflected</a> that she had never felt so foreign on Australian soil. She pays taxes and inflated rents, contributes skills in the national interest, cheers for the Tillies and calls Melbourne “home”, yet suddenly felt unsafe because of the origin and colour of her skin.&nbsp;
Similarly, Chinese national interviewed by media outlet <a href="https://www.scmp.com/news/china/diplomacy/article/3325127/i-feel-insecure-chinese-nationals-australia-blindsided-anti-immigration-marches">reported</a> cancelling weekend plans and feeling “blindsided” by the scale of the marches.
Scapegoating migrants especially in times of economic stress is an age-old phenomenon and is not just limited to Australia. Across the democratic world, from the United States to the UK and parts of Europe, hostility toward migrants and minorities has become a route for anti-democratic forces. Populist actors often <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/australia-news/2025/mar/27/peter-dutton-keeps-blaming-migration-for-the-housing-crisis-but-can-it-really-be-that-simple">use</a> cultural anxiety and demographic change to justify illiberal and undemocratic measures, claiming to restore order while actually dismantling checks and balances.
By analysing democratic decay, scholars like Lydia Khalil at the Lowy Institute, <a href="https://interactives.lowyinstitute.org/features/democratic-erosion/">argue</a> that democracies rarely break down at once. Instead, they incrementally weaken through vicious cycles: declining trust in institutions, entrenched division based on hate, the normalisation of political violence, and the bit by bit removal of norms and guardrails.&nbsp;
Though some of the conditions are present in Australia to be exploited by anti-democratic actors, for example, almost two-thirds of Australians believe their leaders intentionally mislead them, according to the <a href="https://www.edelman.com/au/trust/2025/trust-barometer">2025 Edelman Trust Barometer</a>, &nbsp;but their presence is not determinative.
Australia’s democratic guardrails remain strong: independent courts, transparent elections run by the AEC, and a free press continue to hold power to account. Federalism and active civil society further diffuse power and create space for contestation.&nbsp;
But if public trust continues to erode and social divisions deepen, these safeguards will come under strain. Early recognition and action are crucial to ensure that today’s street-level hostilities do not translate into institutional regression.
Preventing such outcome requires a socially embedded understanding of migration, an understanding that goes beyond simplistic optimistic and pessimistic views. Policy makers should go beyond Push-Pull models, functionalist and neoclassical and historical-structural theories.&nbsp;
Consulting the work done by <a href="https://www.guilford.com/books/The-Age-of-Migration/Haas-Castles-Miller/9781462542895#:~:text=International%20Population%20Movements%20in%20the%20Modern%20World,-Hein%20de%20Haas">Hein de Haas</a> et-el, migration should be conceptualised as an intrinsic part of broader processes of development, social transformation and globalisation rather than a 'problem to be solved'. We need more nuanced views that have an eye for the complexity of migration processes and the diversity of its causes and impacts.
Sohail Akhtar is a Melbourne- based researcher focusing on governance, public policy, and migration. He contributes to Lowy Institute Sydney.
This article was issued by the Toda Peace Institute and is being republished from <a href="https://toda.org/global-outlook/2025/is-street-level-hostility-a-challenge-to-liberal-democracy-reflections-from-australia.html">the original</a> with their permission.

Is street-level hostility a challenge to liberal democracy?

Imagine a high-end fair trade tea brand from Nepal that has done everything right, with ethical sourcing practices and international certifications. It has built a loyal base of socially conscious, premium customers in an export market and focuses on quality over quantity. Then one day, a government in the export market introduces a new ‘listing criteria’ that requires exporting a certain amount of tea to at least three countries in the past five years. But this was never a numbers game, it was about a niche market of socially responsible tea lovers. Suddenly, fair trade tea companies are restricted from exporting tea to that country. Pretty unfair for the company, for consumers, for the tea sector. More importantly, for tea farmers and families benefiting from fair standards. The overseas labour industry is facing a similar risk as recruiters, including those that have adopted ethical standards, may soon be barred from finding workers for Malaysia. On 27 October, the Malaysian Ministry of Foreign Affairs sent letters to five countries including Nepal, Bangladesh, Burma, Pakistan and India to ‘rationalise the number of licensed private recruitment agencies permitted to facilitate recruitment and placement of workers to Malaysia’.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251030141040_050274dddc6cf10224b0ad9283eec7b3bc3c0acd650543a808a8ea473ecf40db.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20251030141040_050274dddc6cf10224b0ad9283eec7b3bc3c0acd650543a808a8ea473ecf40db" data-rendition-name="original" width="961" height="1135" loading="lazy" alt="Malaysia recruitment"></figure>  The letter includes 10 criteria for private recruiting agencies including at least five years of operating experience, deployment of 3,000 workers in the past three years of operation, experience sending workers to at least three countries, a 10,000 sq m office maintained for three years, valid licenses and good conduct certificates, five employer testimonials, and operating their own training and accommodation centres. Two conditions stand out as potentially harmful to Nepal’s ethical recruitment movement. First, although the letter cites a minimum of 3,000 workers, it says three years in the heading and five in the body text. A big enough difference to affect a significant number of recruiters from making the cut, but problematic regardless. Second, the requirement to send workers to at least three countries disproportionately impacts responsible recruiters in Nepal and elsewhere. Turning the selection of workers into a numbers game is dehumanising. Responsible recruiters deprioritise volume, focus on quality of jobs even when business sustainability comes under threat as ethical opportunities that do not require workers to pay any feed and ensure greater transparency are difficult to come by. Sending workers is further impacted by a series of external shocks. For example, in the Malaysian context Nepal banned emigration to Malaysia for two years followed by the Covid pandemic, and then Malaysia’s decision to stop the intake of foreign workers for the last two years.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251030141040_b1b88b3ae2e94c6bc077529ac6f2a4e380a385ee9a22219edfed25067c9d25a1.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20251030141040_b1b88b3ae2e94c6bc077529ac6f2a4e380a385ee9a22219edfed25067c9d25a1" data-rendition-name="original" width="595" height="841" loading="lazy" alt="Malaysia recruitment"></figure>   <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251030141040_2cf252908d18aaf09c875002eef2d92ab45897a56b560addd2dc02311725c8a7.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20251030141040_2cf252908d18aaf09c875002eef2d92ab45897a56b560addd2dc02311725c8a7" data-rendition-name="original" width="590" height="238" loading="lazy" alt="Malaysia recruitment"></figure>  Many ethical recruiters have focused on Malaysia because it is a more common labour market for responsible recruitment than other destinations like the Gulf. There is no credible justification to why responsible recruiters well regarded by scores of Malaysia-based multinational companies and with decades of experience should be ‘disqualified’ for not diversifying. Finding jobs for Nepalis in new markets is difficult given fierce competition, challenges identifying companies which follow the employer-pays principle, lack of networks and shortcomings in marketing strategies. These factors hit responsible recruiters harder because profit-motivated employers are often unwilling to cover the costs and fees associated with workers’ recruitment. “The volume of deployment does not determine a recruiter’s capability or the quality of services provided,” says Sujit Shrestha of the Nepal Association of Foreign Employment Agencies (NAFEA). Nepal recently scrapped the licensing renewal requirement that mandated sending at least 100 workers a year as it was impractical. The new Malaysian criteria is similar in nature, he added. The ball is now in Nepal’s court at a time when the interim government does not even have designated heads in the Foreign Ministry and the Ministry of Labour, Employment Employment and Social Security. When rumours about the Malaysian action started circulating, NAFEA had raised the issue, but was assured that this was not an attempt to set up a syndicate.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251030141044_83c8a174ef116603f747d1cd254c4d353e8b855a41fb99feec54e701f5fc4c3f.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20251030141044_83c8a174ef116603f747d1cd254c4d353e8b855a41fb99feec54e701f5fc4c3f" data-rendition-name="original" width="3456" height="5184" loading="lazy" alt="Malaysia recruitment"></figure>  How will governments and recruiters in other origin countries now respond? There is precedence from Bangladesh. Dhaka-based journalist at the Daily Star, Porimol Palma who says, “Earlier, the Malaysian authorities had selected 101 Bangladeshi recruiters unilaterally, despite Bangladesh’s call for a syndicate-free recruitment mechanism.” Between 2022-2024, 450,000 Bangladeshis were recruited under this system with workers paying between $4,500 and $6,000, even though the legal limit was $750. Palma attributes part of the high fees workers had to pay were for commissions or bribes to recruitment syndicates. Adrian Pereira heads the North South Initiative in Malaysia says: “The criteria seems a bit fishy, as they do not appear to address the actual problems in the the recruitment of foreign workers. Some of the criteria seem to encourage a system of monopoly or syndicate rather than a rights-based approach. Every government has the right to set criteria for recruiters, but conventions and ILO (International Labour Organization) standards on recruitment exist. It looks like we’re back to square one.” Whether migrant origin countries including Bangladesh and Nepal accept the terms sent without reservations or push back in good faith remains to be seen. In an ideal world, a collective stance should put workers’ needs and welfare at the centre. How rational is the proposed ‘rationalising strategy’? What aspects of it are promising to curb recruitment abuse and what merits serious reconsideration? Even if the move from the Malaysian side is well-intentioned to address rampant malpractices migrant workers face, Nepal should deliberate on the conditions set, the collateral damage especially on the responsible actors and small but capable recruiters. Alternate options that might serve everyone better before rushing to respond with a chosen list by 15 November. If the proposal is accepted, how would it be done in a transparent and accountable way? It is noteworthy that Indonesia was not listed even though it has the most workers in Malaysia among the 16 countries that send migrants to Malaysia. The Responsible Business Alliance (RBA), the ILO, the International Organization for Migration (IOM), and certification programs like On the Level (OTL) also need to use their leverage to ensure that recruiters, including those they have trained or certified on ethical recruitment principles, are not penalised. This is more than just about protecting the ethical recruitment movement, but raising even more basic questions: Who can legally be a recruiter in Nepal? There are already obligations like hefty security deposit and minimum office requirements. But requirements to have building facilities with ‘accommodations’ or ‘testing centres’ are not among them. There are 1,150 plus players in Nepal’s recruitment sector, with a few hundred engaged in the Malaysian market. A unilateral selection criteria could risk foul play, or lead to unintended, unfavourable consequences. To be sure, overseas recruitment in Nepal is known for ‘settings’, corruption, dog-eat-dog competition, and collusion. The profiteering is out of control, often at the expense of workers. But the solution does not lie in stifling the industry with criteria like deployment volume, building worker accommodations or expanding office floors. The focus should instead be on enforcing rules and laws in both countries that govern the industry, and the Malaysian labour agreement that has not been renewed since October 2023. Meddling in the industry in ways that harms fair competition and ethical actors means workers suffer. The only issue that should be taking precedence is: how will Malaysia’s 10-point criteria and planned arrangement affect migrant workers? We have seen how for identical Malaysia-based jobs, one worker might pay zero while another pays up to Rs400,000, depending on the employer and recruiter. It is unclear if the 10-point selection criteria rewards the employer. As a longstanding host country for Nepali migrants, Malaysia deserves credit for nurturing the small but growing ethical recruitment industry here. Export-oriented companies in Malaysia need responsible recruitment partners and have mentored recruiters to strengthen their practices and move away from worker-paid models. The business case for ethical recruitment standards has led many recruiters in Nepal to pivot with many now in various stages of transition from traditional to hybrid or purely ethical practices. This progress needs to be acknowledged and built upon. Large, well-networked recruiters with large physical assets and high volume of workers seem to be the winners of Malaysia’s 10-point criteria after two years of waiting for the Malaysian market to reopen. Responsible recruiters endure long periods of minimal or no deployments that threatens their survival. The letter now sitting on the desk of the interim government in Nepal deepens the concern: rather than just failing to recognise or reward responsible recruiters, does the international recruitment market actually punish them? 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.

Who gets to recruit for Malaysia?

Intricately painted Buddha, Aryatara, Krishna, and Parvati gaze serenely at visitors at the Kathmandu Art Gallery under muted amber lights. Moving from one artful devotion to the next, a quiet, profound connection to the divine envelopes the visitor. This transcends art to the realm of the spiritual. &nbsp; The gallery’s latest exhibition, Masters of Devotion, features art by 22 artists all from Bhaktapur. They also include Ajay Karmacharya, Purna Prasad Hyoju, Nhuche Kaji Bajracharya, Rajani Sinkhwal, Shashi Dhar Sainju, Surya Bahadur Chitrakar and Sundar Sinkhwal from the Khowpa Paubha Chowmi Pucha. Paubha are religious and devotional art depicting deities and mandala that date back to the 7th century, when Newa artists began to paint images of the gods on cloth. For the artists who practice this craft, the art form is as meditative as it is meticulous.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251025041028_de34b51d48bcee50ae391301e2ff1890be7ecba3df7e563537c273818825aad5.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20251025041028_de34b51d48bcee50ae391301e2ff1890be7ecba3df7e563537c273818825aad5" data-rendition-name="original" width="1280" height="960" loading="lazy" alt="art review "> </figure>  The exhibition at the newly-opened space Kathmandu Art Gallery coincides with the festival season and is a collection of extravagant works done in mineral and stone colour, sakura and gouache. The vintage art space is located at Babar Mahal Revisited and is a fitting accompaniment to the paubha featured in the exhibit.&nbsp; Sundar Sinkhwal’s vividly painted Harihara is among the more eye-catching works. “Half of the painting is Shiva and half is Vishnu, hence the name Harihar,”explains Sinkhwal. “Together with their consorts Parvati and Laxmi, I have painted Uma-Maheswor and Laxmi-Narayan.” Nandi and Garuda, the vehicles of the two gods, complete the vibrant painting.&nbsp; In contrast, for his piece titled Lakshmi, Sinkhwal shrouds his canvas in dark colours to paint Kuber, the deity revered as the custodian to the wealth in the Hindu pantheon, accompanied by two khyak apparitions —one black, the other white— both mythical creatures in Newari folklore.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251025041032_1bde6de442b742c300bb8c9278ea8886445aa8df47076fd9aa362ce1f8bef903.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20251025041032_1bde6de442b742c300bb8c9278ea8886445aa8df47076fd9aa362ce1f8bef903" data-rendition-name="original" width="1280" height="960" loading="lazy" alt="art exhibition"> </figure>  “The black khyak is considered inauspicious, while white ones are a symbol of good luck,” explains Sinkhwal. Purna Prasad Hyoju has used mineral paint on canvas for a powerful depiction of Ardhanareswar, the composite form of Shiva and his consort Parvati.&nbsp; “I drew inspiration from the Newari Swasthani story about the separation of Shiva and Satidevi,” says Hyoju. Legend has it that Shiva, unwilling to part from his consort, reincarnated as a unified dual gender form of himself and Parvati. Hyoju has painted goddess Parvati in bright yellow, in homage to one of her other manifestations, Gauri, which means radiant.&nbsp; Meanwhile, Ratna Gopal Sinkhwal’s Kurkula Devi, done in stone pigment, is radiant on the cotton canvas. “Kurkula Devi is a tantric goddess whose traces are found in the Sadhana Mala,” says Sinkhwal. “The stone pigment is what makes the goddess look like she is gleaming.” One of Sinkhwal’s other works draws from stories in the Mahabharat to depict Bhimsen, Draupadi, Dushasan and Akash Bhairav in confrontation, expressions fierce.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251025041028_72eea52c8504eccb8b3be7cd4cef616dfb8efd821e8b1e1ae8f440f10782be11.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20251025041028_72eea52c8504eccb8b3be7cd4cef616dfb8efd821e8b1e1ae8f440f10782be11" data-rendition-name="original" width="1280" height="854" loading="lazy" alt="art exhibition"> </figure>  The opening of the exhibition last week also featured a music session, during which some of the artists sang traditional songs. Their voices joined the rhythm of the madal and melody of the harmonium, adding warmth to the crisp autumn evening.&nbsp; Each painstakingly detailed paubha reflects the artists’ devotion to divinity and mythology, as well as their heritage. Masters of Devotion showcases the work of veritable masters of their craft, and is a must-visit for art connoisseurs and devotees alike. Says the gallery’s Sangeeta Rana Thapa: “It is our honour to celebrate the artists’ work—to stand among pieces that embody both devotion and mastery, and to witness a tradition that continues to inspire us.” Masters of Devotion Kathmandu Art Gallery Baber Mahal Revisited Until 22 November

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