Political intimidation, ownership pressures, the rise of AI, and economic constraints are calling into question the future of press freedom – nowhere more conspicuously than in the United States, where these forces have combined to fuel growing anxiety about the fate of an institution that has been fundamental to democracies everywhere. At this year’s International Press Institute World Congress, Project Syndicate Deputy Managing Editor Rachel Danna sat down with Martin Baron, former executive editor of the Washington Post, to discuss the state – and fate – of journalism today. Project Syndicate: You’ve said that journalism’s core mission is to hold powerful institutions to account. In today’s climate, in which media owners, particularly in the US, fear political retaliation, how can editorial independence be maintained? Martin Baron: Journalists must insist on their editorial independence. That’s the first thing: not to concede anything, and to make it clear that their job is to report on what’s happening – what their government is up to, and what the most powerful institutions and individuals in their countries are doing, for good and for ill. The core of our mission is to hold the powerful to account and listen to people who would otherwise go unheard. The alternative is to become either stenographers or propagandists. James Madison, the principal author of the US Constitution, talked about the importance of freely examining public figures and government measures. I always focus on the word “examining,” because it means to investigate, inspect, and assess – the opposite of stenography and propaganda. America’s founders wanted a check on government. They wanted somebody to guard against corruption and abuse of power, and we should live up to those assignments. But ownership remains a point of vulnerability for media outlets. There’s no perfect form of ownership – they all come with pressures, especially when owners have other commercial interests. These pressures have only grown since Donald Trump returned to the White House this year, willing and eager to target those interests. Owners who yield do a disservice to the journalists who work for them and to democracy itself. Their primary goal should be to defend the rights that allowed their media businesses to exist in the first place. You said that you don’t think there’s a “perfect form of ownership,” and considering your experience following Amazon founder Jeff Bezos’s purchase of the Washington Post, you may know this firsthand. But are there other models? Should the media be profit-driven, or should it aspire to be more like a public utility? Are there different models we should be exploring that might work in the US or elsewhere? I haven’t seen anything that’s very promising. Joseph Stiglitz sort of advocated government funding during his talk at the IPI’s World Congress, but I think that’s a major trap. Public broadcasters in the US received government funding, and Trump used it as a way to clobber them. Trump and state officials aligned with him would use government funding as a cudgel to pressure media outlets, when what we need to do is eliminate sources of – or potential sources of – pressure so we can operate with independence. That requires finding a way to be self-sustaining, whether as a nonprofit or as a commercially oriented enterprise. Many independent media organisations around the world, operating in very challenging environments, have been the recipients of American assistance through USAID. Now that USAID has been shut down, they are not getting that money, creating a huge crisis for them. Other outlets have been financed by philanthropic organisations, and they are finding that funding has dried up as well. That is particularly true of news organisations operating in exile or in countries like El Salvador, Venezuela, and Myanmar. Suppose US media organisations relied on government funding. In such a case, Trump would insist that they adhere to the standards he has set, just as he is doing with other recipients of public funding, like universities and school districts. And his standard for the media is to serve as his propaganda outlet. He does not want a free and independent press. The only press he considers legitimate is the kind that repeats what he says word for word. Given this context, and drawing on your experience leading the Washington Post during Trump’s first term, what do you think the media got right – and what did it miss – in covering a president openly hostile to the press? What do you think of the coverage of the second Trump presidency so far? For the most part, the press has done a really good job, both during the first term and now in the second. We know a lot about what happened during the first Trump presidency. We knew much of it at the time, and we know even more now. The same is true today: every day, there is another revelatory report about what’s happening in this administration. Many front-line journalists, and the editors who work directly with them, are committed to holding the government to account – to finding out what this administration is really up to, who’s influencing it, and how its policies are affecting people. I deeply admire them for it. The real failure regarding Trump’s first term actually came before he became a candidate. We didn’t do a good enough job of understanding how we could end up with a president like Trump. We didn’t understand America well enough. We didn’t spend enough time traveling around the country, listening to people’s grievances, and explaining them to others. We still don’t do enough of that. The press needs to serve as a bridge between communities, helping people better understand one another and what they’re going through. That requires reporting without a trace of contempt or condescension, grounded in real empathy. It’s also important to remember that most people don’t spend their days thinking about politics or democracy. They’re focused on making a living, ensuring their kids get a good education, and maintaining access to health care. We need to understand why people feel these things are under threat, why they believe they’re worse off than before, why their kids have fewer opportunities, and why the social problems in their communities are not being addressed. So, how should journalists approach the coverage of populist leaders who actively seek to delegitimize the press? How do you present both sides, or adhere to the cherished principle of impartiality, when one side is clearly lying? You’ve talked about the idea of “objective reality” in journalism. How should journalism today reflect this idea? I have long been an advocate for what’s been known as objectivity in journalism. I know that word can make a lot of people uneasy, but I think it’s been grossly mischaracterised. What I mean by “objectivity” is that reporters should start their work knowing they don’t know everything. That’s the whole reason for reporting. Reporting means finding out about things you don’t know about, or don’t know enough about. So, we should do our jobs without thinking we have all the answers. Instead, we should be focused on asking the right questions. Objectivity – approaching every story with humility, acknowledging what we don’t know, and being willing to learn – is how we preserve our independence. But objectivity is not “both-sidesism.” It doesn’t mean pretending every issue is split 50-50. If the evidence points in one direction, we should say so, rather than pretending otherwise. Only after we’ve done rigorous reporting can we tell people that what we’ve found is true. “Truth” is a big word, so I’m reluctant to use it. The goal is simply to get as close as possible to reality and understand the facts. And to do that, in any field – whether you’re a judge, a scientist, or a journalist – you have to begin with a hypothesis but keep an open mind, knowing it could be wrong. People used to describe journalism as the “first rough draft of history,” and that remains true: it is a draft, always incomplete and constantly evolving. I often think we’re looking at the world through a keyhole; we don’t see everything, yet sometimes we can push the door open a little and get a clearer view of what’s really going on. If we’re skilled and lucky, we can swing that door wide open and see the whole picture. That doesn’t happen every time, but with each discovery, the draft becomes more refined and our confidence in it grows.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251215141240_653d1ccac6b20b3d0d51e587477d90edc641f7ab4d11a8db54269e0645bb4547.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20251215141240_653d1ccac6b20b3d0d51e587477d90edc641f7ab4d11a8db54269e0645bb4547" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="1500" loading="lazy" alt="Martin Baron"><figcaption>Martin Baron</figcaption></figure>  It seems that many people today are eager to tell others what they know – or think they know – despite having no background or formal training in journalism. Influencers and “content creators” have built huge followings on Substack and social media. What does this mean for the future of the profession? I’m not attached to the traditional ways of doing things. Technology has fundamentally changed how people consume information, and that naturally changes how we convey what we know, or think we know. This shift has created an entire ecosystem of influencers, Substackers, YouTubers, and podcasters. The core principle everyone should follow is verification. Is the information you’re communicating authentic and accurate? Alternatively, is it misinformation, or even disinformation? Upholding that standard is critical. Everyone in this business has a duty to share only what they know to be true. Passing along information you haven’t verified is simply irresponsible. Share it only if it’s been checked and comes from trustworthy sources. But how do you do that? That’s the hard part. You need to rely on sources that have proven to be reliable over time. As much as people criticise traditional news organisations, when there’s a natural disaster, guess where they go for information? Whether it’s a hurricane, an earthquake, fires, floods, or war, people turn to the traditional news organisations. That suggests that they believe the information they find there will be accurate. What opportunities and risks does generative AI present? Is this, in your view, a turning point for news media and for journalists? People always sound wiser when they say everything is terrible. Doomsayers tend to sound more profound, and people are more inclined to believe them than the optimists. AI, of course, is a powerful tool capable of many great things. But like every technology, it comes with risks as well as benefits. Social media is a good example: it connected us in unprecedented ways while also deepening polarization. The same is true of AI. It’s an extraordinarily powerful reporting tool that can make journalists more efficient by allowing them to sift through vast amounts of data. Reporters have already used it to analyse bomb strikes, identify the weapons used, and piece together what actually happened. At the same time, the risks are enormous. AI makes it easy to fabricate images, video, and audio. You can hear a recording that perfectly imitates someone’s voice – tone, cadence, and speech patterns. It’s fake, but people may still believe it. Or they may conclude that distinguishing truth from falsehood is impossible and not even worth trying. That’s a precarious position. It threatens not just the press but democracy itself in ways we have yet to grapple with. When we can’t even agree on a basic set of facts, progress becomes impossible. That uncertainty enables people to exploit the situation for personal, commercial, and political gain. This is already happening in US politics. An unflattering image appears, and a public figure says, “That wasn’t me. That was AI.” You hear their voice on a recording, and they say the same thing. Some denials may even be true. But as fake images and audio spread, even authentic ones will be dismissed. People will claim that anything that contradicts their narrative or casts them in a bad light was fabricated. Without a shared sense of what’s real, we lose any firm foundation for public debate. You’ve warned that democracy cannot survive without a free press, which underpins many other freedoms. What reforms or protections do you think are most urgently needed to safeguard press freedom around the world? First, it’s important to make clear that free-speech rights are not reserved solely for the press. They belong to everyone. In many countries today, including the US, even business executives are afraid to speak openly for fear of government reprisal. What we need is a broad coalition of people who understand that free expression is essential to a functioning society. Clearly, there have been many encroachments on free-speech rights in the US recently, and I worry about where they may lead. But we still have judges who recognise the importance of those rights, and many who continue to stand up for the rule of law. That’s the model other countries should aspire to: constitutional protections for free speech, judicial systems that enforce those protections, and governments that respect them. What lessons can emerging democracies draw from US efforts to protect press freedom and uphold institutional resilience at a time of democratic backsliding? You can’t just declare yourself a democracy and sit back. The greatest defender of US democracy has always been its institutions, and Trump is systematically trying to destroy them, with far too much success. Yet they still exist, and they continue, in their own way, to push back against these assaults. That is the key lesson for emerging democracies: you must defend your institutions and protect their independence while recognising how easily they can be subverted. People around the world are horrified by what’s happening in the US precisely because they saw it as a bastion of free expression and the rule of law. Emerging democracies should remember how fragile these pillars really are and resist the temptation to take them for granted. In the US, we’ve done that for too long, which is why so many people once asked, “How much damage can Trump really do?” We took the press freedom for granted. But many more people now understand that the press is often the only institution willing to listen to them, investigate wrongdoing, and hold the powerful to account. And they know that if the press isn’t there, none of that work gets done. And yet the press is increasingly demonised and blamed for various crises around the world. There is a notion that the news media finds itself in its current predicament because it has somehow failed. Do you think this criticism is fair? Has the media done a different – or lesser – job in recent years? It seems to me that many of these criticisms come from people who claim the press is irrelevant and then insist that, had we covered something differently, the outcome somehow would have been different. I don’t know how to reconcile those two ideas. If we’re irrelevant, why would our coverage make a difference? Often, the people who criticise the press haven’t actually looked into what we reported. In many cases, we did cover those issues – people simply weren’t paying attention because they didn’t see them as urgent at the time. When something doesn’t feel urgent, it’s easy to ignore. Some people seem to think the media runs the world. In the US, for example, there’s a notion that the press somehow got Trump elected in 2016. That’s complete nonsense. There was extensive reporting on Trump. At the Post, we published an entire series on his personal and professional history. We wrote so much that it eventually became a book: Marc Fisher and Michael Kranish’s Trump Revealed. If you read that book now, it’s striking how prescient it was. Yet people say, “You didn’t write about this,” or “Why didn’t you tell us that before he got elected?” Many of these criticisms just aren’t borne out by the facts. More often than not, the issues people say we ignore were, in fact, covered – and covered thoroughly. Or else we simply didn’t know then what we know now. Over time, new information emerges, documents surface, and more people come forward. So how can news organisations get people to pay attention, especially younger audiences? You’ve said that without younger readers, journalism has no future. What strategies do you believe are most effective in reaching them without compromising journalistic rigor? I’m not sure we’re communicating in the ways people actually want to receive information. People read less nowadays. They’re more passive consumers; they don’t want to go searching for information. We live in a digital age in which more people get their news visually or through audio rather than text. If I had my choice, it would be different, but that’s the way it is. We should study what works for audiences and apply those lessons ourselves, even if it makes traditional journalists uncomfortable. A journalist recently asked me, “What should I be focusing on? What should I be learning?” I told him, “Short-form video.” You’re a long-form writer? Great, you should still learn how to do short-form video. You may not want to, but you need to provide a tasting menu that makes people want the full course. Most people are not going to read a 10,000-word story or a ten-part series. They don’t have the time or patience. That said, merely adapting isn’t enough. We have to embrace these new formats with enthusiasm, because they’re teaching us how to reach people in a world where communication habits have changed dramatically. We could sit around blaming audiences for the current state of journalism, but that would be a waste of time. © <a href="https://www.project-syndicate.org/">Project Syndicate</a> Martin Baron is a former executive editor of the Washington Post.

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Defending press freedom in the age of Trump

In July, the government announced an amendment to Nepal’s Printing and Publication Act, reportedly without the knowledge of the Minister for Communication and Information Technology Prithvi Subba Gurung.&nbsp;
The amendment gives Nepal’s Chief District Officer (CDO) exclusive authority to regulate the registration, operation and renewal of <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/comment/surveying-nepal-s-digital-landscape">online media</a>, relieving the Department of Information of a responsibility it had since 2016 through the Online Media Operation Directive.&nbsp;
This gives local bodies unchecked power to register and suspend <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/the-new-news-age">online news platforms</a> ‘as they deem fit’. This is the latest in a series of decisions to suppress Nepal’s constitutionally guaranteed press freedom.&nbsp;
Successive governments since 2015 have attempted to enact laws that suppress criticism of officials, disagreement with &nbsp;government policies and the right to information. Although veiled as an attempt to regulate excesses on social media, the primary targets of the draft Media Council Bill are <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/messaging-is-the-message">journalists and journalism</a>.&nbsp;
The Bill will replace the 1991 Press Council Act, and has been passed by the National Assembly and went to the House of Representatives three years ago, but ultimately lapsed after the term of the lower House ended in 2022.&nbsp;
It is being debated again in the House of Representatives since last month with provisions like the formation of a Media Council which will be headed by someone recommended by the Ministry of Information and Communication Technology, which can also arbitrarily sack the person. It can also take journalists to court and suspend their media IDs.
“The government, with zero opposition and increasing lenience from the judiciary, is setting up legal pathways to <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/no-freedom-after-expression-y4inku06">retaliate against the media</a> for fulfilling its responsibility of check and balance,” says lawyer Om Prakash Aryal. &nbsp;
These provisions seek to weaken the existing Press Council, and give politicians and the bureaucracy almost absolute <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/media-matters">power over the press</a>. &nbsp;
Stakeholders have proposed amendments to the Bill during deliberations with the National Assembly’s Legislative Committee, but only a few of the concerns have been addressed.&nbsp;
The Nepali Congress had also introduced 24 amendments to the Bill, but has not backed them after joining the UML-led coalition.
Prime Minister K P Oli had appeared to favour a free press when he assumed office during this tenure last year, but recent press exposes about <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/higher-corruption-in-high-places">corruption in high places</a> has made him increasingly<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/nepal-has-press-freedom-but-no-freedom-after-press"> critical of journalists</a> and social media content.&nbsp;
He has publicly attacked the media’s “intolerance and unwillingness to report on the good work done by the government” and urged the press not to publish or broadcast news “that harms the country, causes confusion and weakens public morale”.
Even while the Bill is being debated, the government has repeatedly invoked the Electronic Transaction Act to harass journalists or accuse the media of contempt of court. Bizmandu, Nepalkhabar, Drishti Weekly, and Nepali Times sister publication Himalkhabar have all been charged.&nbsp;
Last week the Supreme Court published the full text of the verdict of the contempt of court against <a href="http://sidhakura.com/">sidhakura.com</a>, which was convicted last year after the outlet published news that included audio files claiming collusion between media operators and Supreme Court justices to dismiss corruption cases, which were determined to be fake following a forensic examination.
In the verdict, the Supreme Court states that while the media is guaranteed the right to print and publish news and audiovisual material, these rights are not absolute but ‘subject to restriction’, per constitutional provision, which is under Article 19 of Nepal’s Constitution.&nbsp;
But the top court’s interpretation and verbiage sets a precedent that allows for state intimidation towards the press for any content that it deems must be restricted, and subject media institutions to unjustified judicial penalties.&nbsp;
Despite its history of defending media freedom, the Press Council has become an instrument of government and corporate entities, and is so politicised that it has not gone beyond platitudes.&nbsp;
The Press Council has blacklisted 29 media outlets, instructed registered online portals <a href="http://pahilopost.com/">pahilopost.com</a> and News of Nepal, as well as unregistered portals to remove content, and shadow-banned other web portals.
Violations of the Press Council’s code of conduct were previously classified as disobedience. Now, the Council has gone as far as to have the Cyber Bureau go after the media.
The Press Council has written to the Bureau to take action against 43 YouTube channels, seven of them for content related to Prime Minister K P Oli. Diyopost was blacklisted for reporting on the Press Council and its former chair Balkrishna Basnet.
While the Press Council has been monitoring journalists, the proposed Media Council attempts to control media companies themselves. This is a double-barrel targetting of journalism.
Nepal is still considered one of the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/global-press-freedom-index-falls-to-critical-low">few remaining open societies in Asia</a>, but recent government moves threaten our hard won freedom. Although better than other countries in the region, Nepal still slipped from 74th place in 2024 to 90th place this year on the World Press Freedom Index.&nbsp;
The US State Department’s 2024 Country Reports on Human Rights Practices briefly outlined <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/gagging-the-press-in-installments">Nepal’s press freedom scenario</a>, stating that the government generally respected the right to freedom of expression, including for members of the press and other media, but added that “the government did not make sufficient efforts to preserve the safety and independence of media”
The report is ironic coming from an administration that has defunded public broadcasting institutions, barred selected institutions access to the White House, and continued to be hostile to media and journalists. In April, the Committee to Protect Journalists, following Trump’s 100th day in office, released a report concluding that press freedom was ‘no longer a given in the United States’.&nbsp;
As it stands, Prime Minister Oli seems to be taking tips from Indian Prime Minister Modi on suppressing freedom of expression. The government is not just muzzling the press, but also constricting the right to peaceful assembly, dissent and debate. The end-goal seems to be to gag the press ahead of the 2027 elections.&nbsp;
Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/no-comment">No comment.</a>, Shristi Karki

Command and control

On World Press Freedom Day on 3 May, Reporters without Borders issued a map of the world with the status of press freedom in each country. Most Asian countries had restrictions on the media, and Nepal was a beige island in a vast expanse of red. Nepal’s record of democracy and press freedom may now be in jeopardy because of a recent slew of decisions by the courts and law enforcement to intimidate journalists reporting on corruption. The Kathmandu District court on Wednesday issued an arrest warrant against journalist Dil Bhushan Pathak on cybercrime charges, three weeks after he posted an explainer video on his Tough Talk YouTube channel on Jaiveer Singh Deuba’s alleged investment in Kathmandu’s Hilton Hotel, and business dealings overseas. Jaiveer Singh Deuba is the son of Nepali Congress (NC) chair Sher Bahadur Deuba and Foreign minister Arzu Deuba. Pathak based his content on news previously published on various online platforms. On the same day, the Kathmandu District Court also issued an temporary order to remove news published on Nepal Khabar and Bizmandu about the Securities and Exchange Board of Nepal (SEBON), whose Chair Santosh Narayan Shrestha had filed a complaint. The court even directed the sites not to report on the subject anymore.&nbsp; The moves reignited fierce debate about politicians, bureaucrats and businesses becoming increasingly intolerant of media exposés of wrongdoing, and trying to squelch constitutionally guaranteed protection of freedom of expression. As of press time on Thursday, Pathak had switched off his phone and was avoiding arrest. Last year, police arrested a person for sharing a video of people chanting slogans against Prime Minister K P Oli and Sher Bahadur Deuba during a festival in Kathmandu. Another Nepali was arrested for posting a photo of Oli and calling him corrupt. Both were taken into custody under cybercrime charges.&nbsp; “Whenever someone raises questions about a public figure in Nepal, there is a tendency to file a cybercrime case without any investigation,” notes former Supreme Court Justice Balram KC. “this is reminiscent of the Panchayat era.” &nbsp; Interestingly, the warrant against Pathak was issued under the Electronic Transactions Act following a complaint filed at the Cyber Bureau. That Act was legislated to regulate online transactions and money laundering. The government has been resorting to that law to intimidate and jail journalists. &nbsp; “The Act is being misused by political leadership and those who wield power to target those who question, criticise and attempt to hold them accountable,” says CIJ-N editor Kiran Nepal. “This is blaming the messenger, and completely wrong.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250612060644_ca0b1b4817494f640808ee6ddbb4703b1f1402363c07c83489f59145d8d310ae.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20250612060644_ca0b1b4817494f640808ee6ddbb4703b1f1402363c07c83489f59145d8d310ae" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1001" loading="lazy" alt="No freedom after expression NT"> <figcaption>World Press Freedom Index 2025. Map: REPORTERS WITHOUT BORDERS</figcaption> </figure>  There is growing public anger against the three main political parties that have been in power since 2006 for not addressing problems like unemployment, social welfare, shoddy infrastructure. Lack of accountability and corruption lie at the root of those problems, and when journalists investigate them they are targeted. Prominent journalists like Pathak are singled out to set an example, and intimidate others.&nbsp; Article 19 of the Constitution guarantees the media’s rights to publish and broadcast news without restriction. This has protected the mainstream press somewhat, but it is mostly online media that have felt official wrath. The legacy media also posts content online, and some have also had contempt of court and defamation cases filed against them. &nbsp; “In Nepal, the medium through which news and views are expressed have become more of a target than content,” says attorney and cyber law expert Baburam Aryal. “A crime is a crime no matter where it is committed, why should it be all right to print the same news in a newspaper but not online?” Taranath Dahal, former president of the Federation of Nepali Journalists and founder of Freedom Forum, says that the court can order the removal of news only if it causes serious harm to someone's life and reputation.&nbsp; He adds: “It sets a dangerous precedent if a person who holds public office orders the removal of news content instead of factually refuting the allegations reported in said news.”&nbsp; To be sure, both legacy and online media in Nepal have problems. Click baits and views-chasing for revenue on YouTube have allowed disinformation and hate speech to proliferate. Algorithms reinforce and further radicalise entrenched beliefs, amplifying toxic trolling and fanning populism. Experts have called for regulation that does not undermine the citizen’s right to know. &nbsp; Just this week, journalists were arrested in Rautahat on corruption charges after colluding with local authorities to falsify documents of a local government bidding notice. Any complaint against Dil Bhusan Pathak should have gone to the Press Council, which is legally mandated to respond to complaints regarding media content, including on digital platforms. But powerful political and businesses prefer to file cases directly in court, and invoke the Electronic Transaction Act because it allows the journalist to be held in custody during investigation. “This practice has led to not just the violation of press freedom, but also of civil liberties,” says attorney Santosh Sigdel. “The attempt to limit digital spaces and restrictions on the right to gather peacefully in public spaces, is an attack on our democratic values and norms.” --- Thirty-four editors of mainstream media led by Centre for Investigative Journalism Nepal have issued a press note condemning the arrest warrant of journalist Dil Bhushan Pathak for his explainer video on Jaiveer Singh Deuba’s alleged investment in Kathmandu’s Hilton Hotel, and business dealings overseas. Pathak was book for cybercrime charges under the Electronic Transactions Act which was kegislated to regulate online transactions and money laundering. Editors also denounced Kathmandu District Court’s temporary order to remove news published on Nepal Khabar and Bizmandu about the Securities and Exchange Board of Nepal (SEBON) following chair Santosh Narayan Shrestha’s complaint. The court even directed the sites not to report on the subject anymore.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025061505060_861c4d51f9eb490e4dab7495d7c83d86347c89483a69936145e64daf37da5501.png" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="2025061505060_861c4d51f9eb490e4dab7495d7c83d86347c89483a69936145e64daf37da5501" data-rendition-name="original" width="936" height="1204" loading="lazy" alt="CIJ press note 1"> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025061505060_2467ac25a8db8e27a046b1d109425c96e9013169b53a5df072b9e1a6b743ddd7.png" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="2025061505060_2467ac25a8db8e27a046b1d109425c96e9013169b53a5df072b9e1a6b743ddd7" data-rendition-name="original" width="932" height="1206" loading="lazy" alt="CIJ press note 2"> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025061505060_2454565881de8b34133ba84a957827ef88ac1393d49df01e46302ae2b78a2a92.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="2025061505060_2454565881de8b34133ba84a957827ef88ac1393d49df01e46302ae2b78a2a92" data-rendition-name="original" width="3000" height="1510" loading="lazy" alt="CIJ press note 3"> <figcaption>Photo: MANISH PAUDEL/CIJ</figcaption> </figure>  &nbsp;

No freedom after expression

The Canadian media philosopher <a href="https://www.marshallmcluhan.com/biography/">Marshall McLuhan</a> was way ahead of his time in foreseeing how <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/addressing-nepals-digital-divide">the digital age </a>would transform the public sphere. The <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/the-message-is-the-medium-z5w3ekk2">medium was indeed the message</a>, and today the messaging app is the message.
On <a href="https://www.unesco.org/en/days/press-freedom">World Press Freedom Day</a> on Saturday 3 May, journalists must remind ourselves that it is not only our freedom that needs to be protected. Freedom of press guarantees the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/20-years-ago-this-week/media-in-crisis">public’s right to know</a>, journalists are just defending the freedom of their fellow-citizens.&nbsp;
<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/no-freedom-after-expression">Democracy and freedom of expression</a>, by definition, go hand-in-hand. There can be no democracy without participation, and there is no participation without open communication.&nbsp;
But today, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/populism-vs-pluralism">democracy is in retreat across the world</a>, a trend that has gone hand-in-hand and has been abetted by the uncontrolled spread of social media platforms.&nbsp;
The world’s two most populous countries to Nepal’s north and south now have converging political systems and media landscapes. China’s phenomenal economic progress seems to have convinced its admirers that democracy and development are antithetical. &nbsp;
Over the past century, the United States demonstrated that a free press and the free market were two sides of the same coin — open society needed to be defended to ensure accountability and economic growth. The First Amendment to the US Constitution laid down that the legislature should make no laws that infringed on complete <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/jail-the-messenger">freedom of expression</a>.
Yet, the United States is proof now of how too much freedom can kill freedom. We now know that the liberty to say anything can mean we end up saying nothing. There can be so much freedom that the truth can be buried in an avalanche of lies. The free-for-all on the internet is merely an illusion of freedom.
Democracy allows citizens even the freedom to destroy democracy itself. With democracies in decay worldwide, media as the fourth pillar of democracy is turning into a pillar of authoritarianism.
<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/democracy-s-discontents">Hyper-local digital media content is so polarised</a> that it paralyses democracy and pierces the armour protecting the free press. Algorithms reinforce and further radicalise entrenched beliefs, muffle public debate, and muzzle journalists.
The truth is then drowned in a cacophony of toxic trolling, hate speech and disinformation. AI has made it possible for deep <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/balancing-free-expression-with-fake-news-on-social-media">fake content</a> to be even more potent and pervasive.
Democracy and social networking sites, alas, are not compatible. We have been reluctant to put it so bluntly before because agreeing to social media bans in Nepal (<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/rattled-by-criticism-nepal-bans-tiktok">like the government did with TikTok</a>) would mean infringing on constitutionally guaranteed freedom of expression. Such control could lead to creeping censorship of digital content by a thin-skinned government.
The age of AI-driven algorithms coincides with democratic reversal globally, and an existential crisis in the mainstream press. <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/south-asia-2040-qxr16oup">Journalists are no longer sole gatekeepers</a>, ‘content creators’ and ‘influencers’ now give ‘users’ what they want, not what they need to make informed choices — for example about mitigating climate breakdown.
As a press freedom activist said at a recent gathering: “We do not go to a citizen doctor when we are sick, so why do we need citizen journalists to tell us what is happening?”
Yet publishers and editors are stuck in their old ways, unable or unwilling to adapt to new storytelling styles and multimedia packaging formats. With falling revenue, there is less money for investigative reporting which was already jeopardised by corporate conflict of interest.
The free press must survive so that democracy is made more accountable, and pluralism can <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/nepal-populist-party-balenist">prevail over populism</a>. For this, journalism must fight back. Smaller, isolated pockets of independence and professionalism need support to resist. Even practicing independent journalism in this day and age is a form of resistance.&nbsp;
<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/media-melee-in-the-age-of-ai">AI will embolden techno-fascists</a>, replacing physical death squads with cyber lynch mobs. Governments do not need to censor the media, journalists can be silenced by corporate takeovers and mass trolling. They do not need to kill journalists anymore, they can just let journalism die.
Free speech is no longer about journalism, ‘free speech’ is what is on YouTube or TikTok. Journalism used to be governed by rules about verification, double-checking, about credibility and trust. Posts on X do not have to abide by any of those rules, and the tyranny of the algorithm remakes McLuhan’s global village with tribalism.&nbsp;
Media freedom has ended up killing freedom, as another philosopher of resistance, <a href="https://janisjoplin.com/">Janis Joplin</a>, once sang 60 years ago: “Freedom is just another word for nothing left to lose.”
Kunda Dixit

Messaging is the Message

<h2>“My brother died right in front of my eyes”</h2> - Dhanu Bishwakarma  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250401110456_de4a04720790ed70067d7ad74a16b72cee179e99e85fb78a093edadd592be5a0.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20250401110456_de4a04720790ed70067d7ad74a16b72cee179e99e85fb78a093edadd592be5a0" data-rendition-name="original" width="640" height="960" loading="lazy" alt="Suresh Rajak"> <figcaption>Avenues TV journalist Suresh Rajak, who died last Friday as he was filming the pro-monarchy protests from a building that was eventually set on fire by royalist rioters.</figcaption> </figure>  Sujani Magiya was busy preparing for a family gathering that <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/republicans-and-royalists-on-nepal-s-streets">fateful Friday</a> at her home in Chandragiri as her husband, television journalist Suresh Rajak, got ready to head to work.&nbsp; Sujani reminded him to be home early for the get-together. “I’ll come back early,” Suresh promised and left to cover the royalist rally at Tinkune.&nbsp; As confrontation between riot police and demonstrators unfolded, he had climbed up an office building for a vantage point to film the events below. Just then, some in the crowd shouted that there were police on the roof of the building and started stoning the green glass façade.&nbsp; Suresh was last photographed filming through the broken windows, and kept on filming even as the rioters set fire to the building after blocking the front door. Suresh was either asphyxiated or was burned to death. His body was discovered hours later. Back in Kirtipur, Sujani was too busy preparing dinner for the family gathering to check her phone, and was unaware of what was happening across town.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250401120416_60a4b7e5ceb0cd6879f6682013f365f26562154025821ec29a8e9322f448e29b.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20250401120416_60a4b7e5ceb0cd6879f6682013f365f26562154025821ec29a8e9322f448e29b" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="667" loading="lazy" alt="Suresh Rajak Family"> <figcaption>Ramesh Rajak (left) and Dinesh Rajak, older brothers of Suresh Rajak. Dinesh and Suresh, both video journalists, were covering the protests for their respective media outlets. Photo: SUMAN NEPALI</figcaption> </figure>  When she finally saw the news, she dialled her husband’s number but his phone was switched off. The rest of the family had already heard that Suresh was dead, but did not have the heart to break the news to his wife. “My brother-in-law told me around 6PM that my husband had met with an accident and had been taken to hospital,” Sujani recalled. “They stopped me from going to the hospital.”&nbsp; She feared the worst, and prayed fervently. It was on Saturday evening that she finally got confirmation that her husband had lost his life. Her tears have not stopped since. “I have lost everything,” she told us, weeping. Suresh was the youngest of four siblings, and the family could not afford to send him to college. The eldest brother Ramesh took care of the brothers, but his police job did not pay enough.&nbsp; Suresh migrated to Malaysia to work for two years to supplement the family income. He came back after his mother died, and his other brother Dinesh, who is a video journalist with Lokpath, suggested that he also get a job as a reporter. He had been a video journalist at Avenues TV for the past seven years.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250401110452_22ab2d4c9652aeb5007db4b69d07b15e24d5b70a6b0b7e60c07141c1b3f537c2.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20250401110452_22ab2d4c9652aeb5007db4b69d07b15e24d5b70a6b0b7e60c07141c1b3f537c2" data-rendition-name="original" width="800" height="579" loading="lazy" alt="Building set on fire by protestors in Tinkune"> <figcaption>Suresh Rajak was seen filming the protests from this building shortly before it was set on fire. His body was found hours later. Photo: SUMAN NEPALI</figcaption> </figure>  Dinesh and Suresh left home together on 28 March to cover the pro- and anti- monarchy rallies and had agreed to be home early for dinner. Dinesh reached Tinkune as the royalists were gathering, but was too busy to look for his brother.&nbsp; At around 4PM, when he was filming the building that had been set alight, a colleague informed that there was a reporter trapped inside. Dinesh immediately dialled his brother’s phone, but could not reach him.&nbsp; Dinesh stood frozen as the rioters swirled and shouted around him, unable to get ahold of his brother. No one, including Suresh’s film crew knew where he was. He called hospitals with no avail, and that was when Dinesh felt the journalist in the burning building could be his brother. “I had been filming the very house that my brother was burned to death in,” he said, weeping. “I will never be able to forget that.” Dinesh has not been able to face his sister-in-law because he has no answers to the questions she might have. Suresh and Sujani had got married seven years ago after a long-term relationship. She had been with him through much of his journalism career, and was increasingly frustrated that he was often required to work overtime. Suresh dismissed her worries.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250401110452_a74962b765a26e9046ddd4a9fa920a5d02d9cf43cf4fd6df361ba4723ec4c97d.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20250401110452_a74962b765a26e9046ddd4a9fa920a5d02d9cf43cf4fd6df361ba4723ec4c97d" data-rendition-name="original" width="1024" height="683" loading="lazy" alt="Suresh Rajak receiving award"> <figcaption>Suresh Rajak was the 2022 recipient of the Hem-Sunil Risky Journalism award.</figcaption> </figure>  He had been injured once before while filming anti-MCC protests in Baneswor three years ago. “I had asked him to quit his job back then, but he would not listen,” Sujani recalls. Dinesh says that his brother would often take risks to take exclusive photos and videos. He was well regarded by colleagues for his passion for reporting, and was the 2022 recipient of the Hem-Sunil Risky Journalism award. His body is still at Teaching Hospital, and his family met the prime minister on Monday and demanded that he be eligible for a martyr’s compensation, and to punish those who set fire to the building. The Federation of Nepalese Journalists (FNJ) has organised memorials nationwide for Suresh and <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/nepal-s-deja-vu-on-black-friday">condemned the various attacks on Nepal’s media and press institutions</a> during Friday’s protests. Dinesh says that while the rioters were guilty of setting fire to the building, he faulted the police for not helping rescue his brother even when repeatedly told that there was a reporter inside. He says, “Had they gone to that building, my brother’s life could have been saved.” <h2>The last time Sabin left home</h2> - Anita Bhetwal  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250401120416_12ba007525d427fb9136ad20da45c28e71e397089efc23c1a70ed66d022240d6.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20250401120416_12ba007525d427fb9136ad20da45c28e71e397089efc23c1a70ed66d022240d6" data-rendition-name="original" width="1080" height="1343" loading="lazy" alt="Sabin Maharjan"> <figcaption>Sabin Maharjan had left his house on Friday telling his wife he was going to pick up his vehicle from the garage. His family does not know how he ended up at the pro-monarchy demonstration in Tinkune, where he was shot to death after police fired live rounds to disperse protestors.</figcaption> </figure>  There may have been a few thousand pro-monarchist demonstrators at Tinkune on 28 March. But many of those caught up in the melee were either bystanders, or walking past to get to their destinations because there was no public transport. There are at least a dozen people in hospitals across Kathmandu being treated for bullet wounds who were not protesters, but were hit when the police resorted to live rounds to disperse the angry crowds on an arson rampage. One of them was Sabin Maharjan, 29, from Kirtipur who drove a public van on the Hetauda-Kathmandu route. He left home that morning telling his wife Bhavisha Thakuri Malla that he was going to pick up his vehicle from a garage.&nbsp; Sabin was passionate about driving, and had learnt to drive at the age of 14. He met Bhavisha in Hetauda and got married in 2016. He would often stay nights in Hetauda unless his vehicle needed repairs, in which case he drove back to Kathmandu. Last Wednesday, Sabin had come back to Kathmandu in the evening after spending a week in Hetauda, leaving his Tata Sumo at a garage in Balkhu for repairs before heading home to Kirtipur.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250401120420_52efc283b4578b8e951fb695d81d8967e5cdf52e39326db82854c76d1e97cdc1.jpg" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="20250401120420_52efc283b4578b8e951fb695d81d8967e5cdf52e39326db82854c76d1e97cdc1" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1125" loading="lazy" alt="Bhavisha, Sabin's wife"> <figcaption>Sabin's wife Bhavisha Thakuri Malla. The couple have a seven-year-old daughter. Photos: ANITA BHETWAL</figcaption> </figure>  Relatives and co-workers say they have no idea why a man who had said he was going to pick up his van from the garage had ended up across town at a violent protest. “Maybe someone took him to Tinkune from the garage, or he could have gone there for some other work,” Bhavisha says, her voice breaking.&nbsp; Bhavisha was doing her chores with her daughter when she got a call from TU Teaching Hospital. She rushed to Maharajganj, but was informed that Sabin had died.&nbsp; Bhavisha stares listlessly at her daughter Subisa beside her, as mourners file into the room to offer words of consolation. “The bullet wound was on the left side of his chest, he must have died instantly, without knowing what hit him,” she says. “Those here ask what they can do for me. Can they bring my husband back?” Relatives say Sabin had no interest in politics, and had never joined any political rally. The only time he left home was to drive his van.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025040112040_be268599be04b0738465410af93f93938c6ac5206355edd7c3938b7b7c610abf.jpg" data-media-id="editor_8" data-image-id="2025040112040_be268599be04b0738465410af93f93938c6ac5206355edd7c3938b7b7c610abf" data-rendition-name="original" width="1280" height="894" loading="lazy" alt="Sabin Maharjan"> <figcaption>Mourners have gathered for the last few days to pay respects at Sabin Maharjan's house in Kirtipur.</figcaption> </figure>  Bikash Maharjan raised his nephew, Sabin, since he was five after his mother’s death and father’s remarriage. He says: “Sabin was not the least bit interested in politics. We just cannot understand what took him to Tinkune.” Family and neighbours were not the only ones at Sabin’s house in Kirtipur to offer condolences. There were some participants from the pro-monarchy protests, as well as government representatives.&nbsp; But Bhavisha has no interest in meeting them. “I do not know what this protest was for. All I know is that if it had been peaceful, this would never have happened.” Bikash Maharjan, Sabin's uncle, says his death should not be exploited by any political side for propaganda purposes. “We are ordinary people, we do not want anyone to use the name of the son we have lost for any political purpose.”&nbsp; “Since Sabin cannot take care of his family now, it is up to the government to support them,” he adds.

A Tale of Two Deaths

One video on social media shows Avenues tv videographer Suresh Rajak filming <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/republicans-and-royalists-on-nepal-s-streets">Friday's pro-monarchy protests</a> in Kathmandu through windows shattered by stone-throwing crowds on the street below. The steel sliding door has been padlocked from the outside.&nbsp;
Minutes later, the rioters set fire to the building and stoned a fire truck trying to douse the flames. Rajak’s body was found two hours later after colleagues started searching for him.
Onlinekhabar journalist Dinesh Gautam was taking pictures of protesters snatching a tear gas gun from a policeman, when they attacked him, fracturing his leg. Across the Tinkune intersection, protesters attempted to set fire to the office of Annapurna Post and pelted stones at the Kantipur Television building. A Himalayan TV van was set alight.
Kathmandu woke up on Saturday to watch videos of the violence on their devices, or buy dailies at the newstands. The front pages carried special editorials and publisher’s notes that accused the royalists of deliberately targetting the media.&nbsp;
The <a href="http://www.fnjnepal.org/np">Federation of Nepalese Journalists (FNJ)</a> organised memorials nationwide for Rajak and called the royalist attacks “a black day for press freedom”, comparing it to the days of the absolute monarchy.
“The attacks on the press and activists prove that protesters had no intention of peaceful gathering, they were itching for violence,” former FNJ chair Taranath Dahal said at the event in Kathmandu attended by hundreds of journalists.
Nepal’s public sphere appears to be polarised by former king Gyanendra Shah’s <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/the-ghost-of-monarchy-returns-to-haunt-nepal">attempt to reinstate Nepal as a Hindu kingdom</a>. While the mainstream press is vocally critical of the arson and looting unleashed by his supporters on Friday, on social media the picture is more mixed with many accusing the security forces of provoking the protesters.
The posts say riot police used the roof of the building that was torched to fire tear gas shells at the stage prepared for pro-monarchy figures. Police denied doing this. The owner of Avenues tv, Bhaskar Rajkarnikar, who is on a pro-monarchy committee led by Bollywood actress Manisha Koirala, had one of his own journalists burnt to death by royalist protesters. He has since accused the police of not doing enough to douse the fire and rescue Suresh Rajak.&nbsp;
The other fatality on Friday was 29-year-old Sabin Maharjan who got a police bullet in his neck. At least 112 people were injured, including 77 security officials. Apart from newspaper buildings, protestors vandalised private property, party buildings as well as ransacked a Bhatbhateni department store and a pharmaceutical factory.
Late Friday night, pro-monarchy leaders Rabindra Mishra and MP Dhawal Shumsher Rana of the royalist RPP were arrested for instigating demonstrators to engage in violence. The leader of Friday’s protest, business tycoon and alleged bank defaulter<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/street-politics"> Durga Prasai</a>, who rammed his pickup through police cordons, has eluded the police dragnet.
Many have said that the final responsibility for Friday’s violence lies with Gyanendra Shah, who reportedly instructed Prasai directly on Thursday on plans for the rally. The government is reportedly planning to strip Shah of state facilities granted to him since the monarchy was abolished in 2008, and to cancel his passport because of fears he may flee the country.
Ex-king Gyanendra has not yet spoken out about the protests. The RPP under Rajendra Lingden gave moral support to the protest but he had disagreements with Prasai, Mishra and Rana about how and when to hold it. The party meeting on Saturday is said to have decided to continue with “peaceful protests” to restore Nepal’s monarchy. Strategically, it helps Lingden's position within the party that a more radical faction is being blamed for Friday’s violence.
Former prime minister Sher Bahadur Deuba of the NC on Saturday warned: “If this is what Gyanendra is doing now, what will he do if he is a king? He has never been a constitutional monarch, and he never will be.”
In its Special Editorial titled ‘<a href="https://ekantipur.com/opinion/2025/03/29/special-editorial-make-gyanendra-shah-accountable-16-58.html">Hold Gyanendra Shah Accountable</a>’ on Saturday, Kantipur wrote: ‘Instead of presenting ideological, political, and practical arguments for monarchy the royalists have engaged in vandalism, arson, and looting, proving that frenzy and chaos is inherent in their identity and character.’
Most editorials and analyses emphasised that Friday’s protest was an indication of public dissatisfaction with Nepal’s three main party leaders who have been prime minister multiple times — their corruption, lack of accountability and impunity.
<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/sacking-of-nea-chief-exposes-cronyism">Public anger is bubbling away</a>, and Friday’s mayhem in Tinkune was a manifestation of this. This should be a final wake-up call to political parties to clean up their act, and for ageing leadership to hand the reins to younger untainted figures before the next elections in 2027.
This is the reason leaders like Balen Shah and Rabi Lamichhane were elected in 2022, and is proof that at least democracy allows citizens to choose their next leaders.
But for democracy to function, it needs checks and balances in place, and this is where the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/media-matters">role of the media as a watchdog </a>becomes crucial. It is when critical voices are silenced and suppressed, dictators are born.
Following an emergency central committee meeting, the FNJ has announced protests demanding action against those involved in the killing of Rajak. “Protesters might have attacked and killed journalists, vandalised equipment and media outlets, but you will lose,” FNJ’s Deepak Acharya said at Saturday’s memorial. “Nepal’s press has always fought authoritarian control and it will keep fighting.”

Sonia Awale

Nepal’s déjà vu on Black Friday

The National Assembly will discuss the government’s contentious Social Media Bill which has been criticised by press freedom watchdogs, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/makeshift/addressing-nepals-digital-divide">digital rights</a> experts and journalists.
<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/protecting-free-speech-on-nepal-s-cybersphere-osx1xz46">Nepal’s cybersphere </a>is also largely united in condemning the proposed Bill, which seeks to monitor content on <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/digital-discrimination">digital platforms</a> and criminalise what it deems as offensive with hefty fines and jail terms for users and service providers.&nbsp;
“The Bill has brought matters relating to <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/no-freedom-after-expression">freedom of expression</a> entirely under criminal law, making them state party criminal cases,” explains &nbsp;Baburam Aryal, digital law expert. “We already have laws that address defamation, indecent posts and extortion which extend to online spaces. Why has the government not tried to address these issues through existing laws?”&nbsp;
Activists say the Bill does not seek to regulate social media so much as control what Nepalis say on them. The proposed restrictions would also undermine <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/press-for-people">press freedom</a> since mainstream media also have a presence on digital platforms and websites.
Says Nirmala Sharma, Chair of the Federation of Nepalese Journalists: &nbsp;“The government might have drafted this bill with the intention of regulating social media, but this must not be done at the cost of the people’s right to express themselves freely. It will also affect press freedom at a time when much of Nepal’s media reaches its audience through digital platforms.”
The Bill seeks to criminalise content sharing on social media that ‘disturbs the sovereignty, territorial integrity, national unity and security of Nepal’, with imprisonment of up to five years, or fines of up to Rs500,000 or both.
The definitions of what is objectionable is so broad, anyone can be prosecuted. The Bill states that users must not ‘engage in offensive words and audiovisuals, trolling, or use abusive, insulting, or hate speech to harm or humiliate others’, and must not ‘<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/comment/inoculation-against-misinformation">spread false and misleading information,</a> or distort information.’
The Bill will also require network companies like Meta and X to be registered in Nepal, establish an office, and pay taxes. Companies operating without registering will be fined Rs2.5 million.
Digital rights experts say that the government might be pushing registration of social media companies to gain access to personal data that &nbsp;companies may be reluctant to hand over otherwise.
“If these global social media companies have not shared data with the authorities even in the countries where they are based, they will not do it for Nepal,” says Aryal, “They are not just answerable to Nepal but the entire world. They will not play by different rules for us.”
It is impossible for the thousands of apps Nepalis use on a daily basis to register and establish points of contacts in Nepal. Just because these digital services are easily available does not mean that they will be as easy to regulate.
“These companies have data protection obligations, and will not exchange information with Nepali authorities unless we provide a robust legislative framework and we can assure that the data will be used in case of civil wrongs and not criminal wrongs,” says Aryal.
The social media bill defines ‘hate speech’, but does not set parameters for ‘trolling’, ‘abuse’, ‘insult’ and ‘misleading information. It is all left purposefully vague so the government can take it to mean whatever it wants.
This is ominous because such broad provisions can allow Nepal’s authorities to bend the law to silence any criticism of politicians and muzzle anti-government sentiments.
While some terms are broad and undefined, the definition of terms like cyber-stalking, cyber-bullying, and hate-speech do not qualify as their actual definitions, and there are inconsistencies with punishments associated with the same offence in two different clauses.
The Bill would prohibit <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/internet-in-everything">social media</a> users from creating anonymous profiles or use fake names, which will carry a prison term of three months or a fine of Rs50,000 or both. Section 25 would also punish those disseminating content that is ‘obscene, false, or misleading with Rs300,000 fine and two years in jail or both.
Adds Aryal: “If an administrative agency becomes the final arbiter of what is wrong and harmful information, it opens up the possibility of maximum misuse of authority.”
To be sure, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/facebook-nation">Facebook</a>, Instagram, YouTube, X and <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/taking-back-tiktok">TikTok </a>do have content that propagates misinformation and disinformation, primarily due to lack of media literacy, click-bait journalism, and targeted content.
“While social media has become an essential source of news and information, it remains unreliable,” says pollster Madhu Acharya of &nbsp;Sharecast Initiative. “Unlike legacy media, social media lacks gatekeepers, making it more susceptible to the spread of false information.”
Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/balancing-free-expression-with-fake-news-on-social-media">Balancing free expression with fake news on social media</a>
There is disinformation on both social and mainstream media, but the Bill bypasses existing legal provisions to criminalise it outright.&nbsp;
Says Nirmala Sharma: “Government bodies must not be given absolute authority on social media usage over existing legal remedies.”
Ram Prasad Dahal, also of FNJ, adds, “Instead of focusing on genuine regulation and accountability, the entire bill appears to be a strategic move towards greater state control and censorship on social media platforms.”
Nepal’s leadership seems to be taking its cue from autoritarians in the region to stifle dissent and the freedom of the press. In India, even as much of the mainstream media fell under PM Narendra Modi’s tutelage, his loyalist Gautam Adani brought NDTV, one of the last mainstream media attempting to hold the Modi government to account.
In the USA, Elon Musk, who owns X, gleefully became the mouthpiece of Trump during his candidacy and now has an active role in shaping the US government. Other media entrepreneurs like Jeff Bezos, who owns the Washington Post, have also cosied up to the American president, who has repeatedly undermined the legitimacy of the press.
Nepali leaders have tried to muzzle the media in instalments in the past, but public outrage has stopped those measures. Last year, three people were arrested for sloganeering against Prime Minister KP Oli and Sher Bahadur Deuba of NC at a festival. Some who criticised the government on social media platforms have also been detained.
Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/media-matters">Media matters</a>, Shristi Karki
Leaders have in the past arrested owners of media that have exposed corruption, and journalists reporting on natural resource extraction and corruption have received death threats.&nbsp;
The watchdog Freedom Forum recorded 53 violations in 2024, of them 19 journalists received death threats, seven were detained, and three faced cybercrime charges. Additionally, 28 journalists were attacked and one journalist in Sudurpaschim Province was killed for reporting on corruption.
Nepal’s mainstream press is not without problems. It often puts out partisan content, and there have been allegations of blackmail.&nbsp;
Hate speech, incitement of violence, and infringement of privacy on social media do go unpunished. The absence of fact checking means glaring falsehoods go uncorrected.
Ultimately, lines have to be drawn to safeguard social harmony and protect individuals from wanton reputational harm. With companies like Meta abandoning <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/punished-for-fact-checking-in-nepal">fact-checking</a>, digital media platforms may need more national oversight.&nbsp;
But this must not undermine <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/jail-the-messenger">freedom of expression in Nepal</a>, one of the few countries with an open society in the region.&nbsp;
“We have made it clear that the Bill in its current form must not be passed by Parliament, and the government must consult stakeholders to review and make necessary amendments,” says Nirmala Sharma.
With additional reporting from Sangya Lamsal.

Shristi Karki

No comment.

2024 was marked by Nepal’s politicians attempting to silence journalists and institutions that were critical of them.&nbsp;
Despite being elected, they seem to be learning the tricks about gagging the media from authoritarians in the neighbourhood. But the lesson there is that such suppression is counterproductive.&nbsp;
First it was Home Minister Rabi Lamichhane who, as Home Minister in the previous coalition, jailed the publisher of Kantipur which had exposed his alleged involvement in defrauding cooperatives
Lamichhane lost his job when the coalition collapsed after the Nepali Congress switched to the UML side in June. He has now been charged, and lost his MP seat and party chairmanship as well.&nbsp;
Lamichhane and other political leaders who catapulted to national politics after the 2022 local and federal elections copied the proven method of fanning populism through social media. Once in power, like elected authoritarians elsewhere, they have tried to emasculate the mainstream press.
Earlier this month, Dharan Mayor Harka Sampang openly threatened journalist Gopal Dahal and the Centre for Investigative Journalism-Nepal for their <a href="https://www.himalkhabar.com/news/143356" target="_blank">exposé</a> of governance and fundraising irregularities. Sampang said he would ‘end the career’ of Dahal and former Federation of Nepali Journalists (FNJ) Sunsari chair Janak Rishi Rai who had shared the story on social media.
Sampang’s supporters have since been sending Dahal death threats, using slurs, and praising the mayor for ‘teaching the media a lesson’.&nbsp;
The mayor’s actions have drawn widespread condemnation, with FNJ and Freedom Forum calling for the safety and protection of journalists. Dharan journalists <a href="https://www.himalkhabar.com/news/143445" target="_blank">staged rallies</a> in outside the mayor’s office denouncing his threats.&nbsp;
“There is no environment for freedom of expression in Dharan, where the mayor has long been intimidating the press," CIJ-N editor Kiran Nepal says. “All the while, the central government is silent in the complaints against Sampang.”
The New York-based Committee to Protect Journalists (CPJ) said in a statement: ‘CPJ calls for a swift and thorough investigation into the death threats against journalist Gopal Dahal. Authorities must hold all perpetrators accountable while ensuring the journalists’ safety … the media must be allowed to report without fear of harassment or violence.’
Lamichhane, Sampang and Kathmandu mayor Balen Shah campaigned in 2022 on anti-incumbent platforms riding the save of public disenchantment against established parties.&nbsp;
They have continued to rile up their base by magnifying the message on social media, scathingly trolling and threatening anyone daring to criticise them — including those in the mainstream press.
“What Sampang, Shah and Lamichhane have in common is that they think they are above media scrutiny, and prefer to mobilise their troll armies," says CIJ-N's Kiran Nepal. "Nepal's media has problems, too, but this new crop of politicians thinks there is no role at all for a free press."
The new leaders all have their sights on the 2027 elections, and have benefited from the silence from the political establishment against their methods. Mainstream political leaders seem wary of engaging with these younger leaders and their supporter base.
Nepal’s established parties which fought long and hard for democracy also appear to have developed a thin skin — especially to social media content that lampoons them.&nbsp;
For mainstream leaders, intolerance of criticism is not just limited to the media, but also to dissenting voices from within their own parties, as evidenced by the expulsion of Bhim Rawal and suspension of leaders Binda Pandey and Usha Kiran Timilsina.
The coalition government is pushing ahead a new media bill aimed at regulating social media networks and online media.&nbsp;
Communication Minister Prithvi Subba Gurung has said the bill is aimed at “countering the chaos created by social media”. The bill has been approved by the Cabinet, but it is unclear whether it will now go to Parliament, and Gurung is urging Prime Minister K P Oli to pass the bill through ordinance.&nbsp;
The bill will require international social media networks like Facebook and TikTok to obtain registration, establish an office, and pay taxes in Nepal. Social media and online users can be fined or jailed if found to violate norms in the bill.&nbsp;
Last year, the Maoist-NC coalition used similar rhetoric of ‘maintaining social harmony’ to ban TikTok. Mainstream parties were spooked by rising popularity of religious radicals and pro-Monarchy groups on the platform.&nbsp;
Establishment leaders are nervous that independently elected mayors including Sampang and Shah, will use social media to join national politics like the RSP’s Rabi Lamichhane.
While populist leaders demonstrate intolerance towards criticism in the mainstream press, they and their supporters use their social media handles to threaten and troll even a hint of criticism of their actions on those platforms.
This puts media organisations and free speech activists in a dilemma: while hate speech, intimidation and trolling corrode democracy, censoring the internet is a slippery slope.
They say the bill undermines freedom of speech, and that while monitoring social media to maintain socio-cultural harmony is important, putting controls over social media is the wrong way to go about it.&nbsp;
Tellingly, the political establishment has stayed silent throughout Sampang’s threats against Dahal and CIJ-N, Lamichhane ridiculing the ‘dirty dozen’ media owners and the Balen Shah overstepping his remit in Kathmandu. &nbsp;Authorities in Dharan have also been willing to start legal proceedings against Ssampang even after complaints
Nepal is currently one of the most open societies in Asia in terms of freedom of expression. Any restrictions on media freedom through the bill, or government inaction against threats to journalists will set a bad precedent in the region.&nbsp;
However, even as politicians try to mute the media and despite the online support for populist leaders who attack the press, Sharecast Initiative’s annual survey shows that Nepalis still have a lot of trust in mainstream press.
Even though the audience of legacy and linear media continues to decline every year, there is still a considerable critical mass that appreciates the role free media plays in making democracy function as it should.
Says Nepal: “Putting regulations over social media is a double-edged sword, it will curtail freedom of expression-- democracy cannot function under this kind of control mechanism.”&nbsp;

Media matters

The scenes from Dhaka on Monday were eerily similar to the ransacking of the residences of Ferdinand Marcos or Gotabaya Rajapaksa. Protesters took selfies lying on Sheikh Hasina’s bed (pictured above), they lounged on her sofas, feasted on biryani, and looted whatever was portable.&nbsp;
As is usually the case, it only takes a spark to light a revolt when a people’s fury at ruthless rulers reaches the tipping point. Hasina’s regime cracked down brutally on demonstrators, killing more than 300.&nbsp;
After another day of bloodshed on 4 August, Hasina lost support of the security forces, and jubilant protesters watched as their <a href="https://edition.cnn.com/2024/08/05/asia/bangladesh-prime-minister-residence-stormed-intl/index.html">prime minister of 15 years fly off to India</a>. Army Chief Waker-Uz-Zaman announced an interim government would be formed.
There is a vital lesson from what has happened in Bangladesh for the rest of South Asia and beyond. Rulers cannot rest on their laurels just because they were freedom fighters. If citizens do not benefit from regime change, they will sweep rulers into the dustbin of history.
History is replete with examples of despots who plunder, torture and kill opponents, but are overthrown sooner or later. <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/world/article/2024/aug/05/why-bangladesh-prime-minister-sheikh-hasina-resigned">Sheikh Hasina</a>, was elected for the fifth time in a rigged election in January that was boycotted by the opposition BNP, and accepted only by India.
Hasina's fate is also a lesson for regional powers who back tyrants for geopolitical reasons: what they gain from such support can be tenuous and short-lived.
Nepal is presently not ruled by an elected despot, our press is the freest in the region, and the check and balance of democracy here function relatively well. Yet, the events in Bangladesh have an important lesson for our elderly rulers and mass media.&nbsp;
Are we in the media also partly to blame for increasing public frustration with politics as usual that is making Nepalis cynical and apathetic?
Nepal’s new politicians have exploited the fecklessness of old rulers by using the new media to gather populist support. Journalists are seen to be comrades-in-arms of the legacy leaders, and are collectively held responsible for Nepal’s decline.&nbsp;
In the age of citizen journalism, there is a misconception that the mass media has become redundant. However, in-depth journalism is more essential than ever to help citizens navigate information overload, disinformation and deep fakes.&nbsp;
The mobile phone and its algorithm-driven networking platforms are more for entertainment than information. And if information is a major part of content, then more often than not it is fake news and toxic trolling. Readership has not decreased, it has just migrated, and the sources of information have changed.
The main reason Nepal's politicians and journalists find themselves targetted is because they played active roles together in the people power movements of 1990 and 2006.
Indeed, journalists have been at the forefront of the restoration and protection of democracy and in upholding press freedom — through the conflict years, and after king Gyanendra’s coup in 2005.&nbsp;
But <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/stemming-asia-s-democratic-decay">when democracy fails to deliver</a>, the public and populists tend to blame not just elected politicians, but also journalists.&nbsp;
The irony is that Nepal’s leadership is reluctant to credit the mass media for helping defend democracy and making it possible for them to get to power. Instead, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/press-for-people">many politicians would like to muzzle the media</a> because of its role in holding their power to account and exposing corruption in high places.&nbsp;
The media is playing its mandated adversarial role in Nepal’s democracy, but click-bait media and <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/democracy-s-discontents">populist politicians</a> see public-interest journalism as competition for public attention.
We in the legacy media therefore find ourselves being distrusted by old guard politicians, and as rivals by YouTubers and TikTokers.
The state itself refuses thus far to recognise the communication enterprise as an industry, and successive governments <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/multimedia/gagging-the-press-in-installments">have tried to weaken the traditional mass media by laws and policies</a>. The ban on alcohol ads on grounds of public health, even though such goods can be openly bought and consumed, is part of that strategy.&nbsp;
New leaders like Kathmandu mayor Balen Shah were propelled to power by new media. The <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/nepals-home-minister-vs-the-media">RSP’s Rabi Lamichhane</a> also fanned cyber-populism to get elected, which is why he is so dismissive of the ‘Dirty Dozen’ (१२-भाइ एडिटर) of the legacy media that exposed his wrongdoings.
The lesson from the Bangladesh upheaval for Nepal’s rulers who have been at the helm now for decades is this: clean up your act and start delivering, or else face a similar fate.
<a href="https://www.bbc.com/news/articles/clywww69p2vo">Sheikh Hasina</a> persecuted the press, allowing social pressure to build up until it all exploded in her face. A free press is democracy’s safety valve, and it is in the self-interest of Nepal’s political parties to defend it.
Gunaraj Luitel is the Chief Editor of Nagarik Daily in Kathmandu.
@gunaraj

Selfies on the prime minister’s bed

Scream lies to drown the truth.
Gag free expression with free expression.
Spread falsehood faster than facts.
Sow distrust so facts don’t matter.
Jail the messenger.
That is the tip sheet of populist demagogues the world over to add a poison tip to social media. The disinformation is intended to unravel the social fabric, and dismantle trust in institutions to gain power. Blocking their way are the liberal democratic system and the press, and this is why they are targeted.
It is easy for populism to strike roots in democracies, including Nepal, because some in the established parties and the legacy media have squandered hard-won freedoms through lack of accountability and power brokering. The proximity of media tycoons to elected leaders provides grist to this anti-‘elite’ narrative.
Despots around the world are learning from each other how to weaponise social media platforms. Big Tech companies made this job easy by basing their business model on algorithmic radicalisation that manufactures outrage. Users quickly learn to exaggerate rage and magnify wrath to amass more followers. Facebook, X, YouTube reward them with digital pheromones, turning them into addicts.
In a commencement speech at Harvard University this week, <a href="https://www.rappler.com/voices/thought-leaders/full-text-maria-ressa-speech-2024-harvard-commencement-ceremony/" target="_blank">Nobel Prize winning Filipino journalist Maria Ressa</a> blamed Big Tech of coding divisions in society with hate speech, and being <a href="https://www.youtube.com/live/7dETo7ECQKc?app=desktop" target="_blank">“the accelerant to conflict and violence”</a>.
She went on: “Without facts, you can’t have truth. Without truth, you can’t have trust. Without these three, we have no shared reality, no rule of law, no democracy.”
Elected despots enabled by Big Tech spread chaos and break down trust. Which is why journalism is in the crosshairs: we stand in the way by standing for rule of law and an open society.
Here in Nepal we have survived dark periods when freedoms were crushed under the jackboots of royal-military authoritarians. The press and the political parties fought for freedom together. After 1990 and 2006, the media was often critical of those in government, exposing wrongdoing, but for the most part the main parties shared the same values -- that press freedom and democracy are two sides of the same coin.
Now, the leader of an independent party that rose dramatically in the 2022 election on an anti-incumbent platform is behaving like autocrats of yore by attacking the media. Nepal’s Home Minister Rabi Lamichhane is himself <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/after-balen-the-rabi-phenomenon" target="_blank">a former anchor</a> of a rabble-rousing tv show.
He was forced to resign during <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/the-rise-and-fall-of-rabi-lamichhane" target="_blank">his first stint</a> as home minister last year because of media exposures of his <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/rabi-lamichhane-is-home-less" target="_blank">US citizenship issue</a>. He deftly wriggled out of that one, and as home minister once again is charged with cheating depositors of several cooperatives of their savings and investing it in his tv channel.
The mainstream press relentlessly pursued this story, the most persistent being Nepal’s largest-circulation daily broadsheet, Kantipur. Last week, Lamichhane used the powers of his office <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/nepals-home-minister-vs-the-media" target="_blank">to jail the paper’s publisher Kailash Sirohiya</a>, strong-arming state agencies to detain him. A classic case of guilty until proven innocent.
The matter is in the Dhanusha court, and Siorhiya’s remand has been <a href="https://kathmandupost.com/national/2024/05/27/dhanusha-district-court-extends-kmg-chair-sirohiya-s-remand-by-three-days" target="_blank">extended by another three days.</a> There is little doubt that the publisher’s citizenship discrepancy, which could be a clerical oversight, has been used to hide skeletons rattling in Lamichhane’s own closet. The <a href="https://kathmandupost.com/national/2024/05/22/us-embassy-expects-dialogues-to-ensure-good-governance-and-press-freedom" target="_blank">US Embassy in Kathmandu</a> and international <a href="https://kathmandupost.com/interviews/2024/05/26/people-are-now-listening-to-democratically-elected-authoritarian-leaders" target="_blank">press freedom</a> watchdogs have <a href="https://www.ifj.org/media-centre/newsletters/detail/nepal-media-house-chair-arrested/category/press-releases" target="_blank">condemned the arrest</a>.
Using some of the same <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/after-balen-the-rabi-phenomenon" target="_blank">social media mobilisation</a> that got him elected, Lamichhane has unleashed troll platoons to cyber lynch anyone who dares question this vindictive abuse of office. The controversy stalled the budget session of Parliament for many weeks, as the opposition Nepali Congress (no saints themselves) demanded a house committee probe into the matter.
All top leaders of the three mainstream parties have said skeletons they use to blackmail each other and cancel each other out so nothing is ever investigated. Being the fourth largest in Parliament, Lamichhane’s RSP has the swing votes critical for this Left-led coalition to stay in power.
That is why top leaders of the Maoist Centre and the UML both looked away when Sirohiya was detained last week. They will benefit from journalists now too scared to investigate their scams. There is freedom of expression in Nepal, but not necessarily freedom after expression.
Nepal’s senior editors met Prime Minister Pushpa Kamal Dahal on Monday, and reminded him that this attack on the free press was happening on his watch. They <a href="https://kathmandupost.com/national/2024/05/25/21-editors-of-media-outlets-across-asia-call-on-pm-dahal-to-stop-media-intimidation" target="_blank">handed him a statement</a> that said: “There are serious questions about the manner in which Kailash Sirohiya was arrested and about the charges levelled against him, this is a direct attempt to put pressure on, and silence the independent press.’
Kunda Dixit

Jail the messenger

Sha Bahadur Gurung was 30 years old when he was arrested for participating in a peaceful protest. He died aged 65 last week in Bhutan’s Chamgang Central Prison. He was among 31 prisoners of conscience in Bhutan, many of whom are serving long sentences for opposing the regime’s forcible expulsion of 100,000 of its Lhotsampa people in the early 1990s. ‘Mr Gurung died on 15 December in his prison cell under circumstances that raise serious concerns about custodial negligence and long-term abuse,” said a statement by the Global Campaign for the Release of Political Prisoners in Bhutan (GCRPPB) based in The Hague which demanded an external probe, justice and release of remaining political prisoners. Gurung was from Chirang and was arrested in 1990 while serving in the Royal Bhutan Army, and accused of having sympathies for the Lhotsampa people. He was mostly held at the notorious Rabuna Prison in Wangdi Phodrang District.&nbsp; Gurung’s relatives in the United States said he had endured prolonged physical and psychological abuse during his imprisonment, and repeatedly subjected to torture and inhumane treatment. They believe the decades of ill-treatment had damaged his health, ultimately leading to his death. Earlier this month, Gurung was transferred from Rabuna to Chamgang Central Prison. On 14 December. He had gone to bed after dinner without any visible sign of distress. He was found unconscious in his cell the next morning.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251224151248_5fc8305ecd320d89b9e343c04a1a897dc1353353da55b6d277f5398034b265ea.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20251224151248_5fc8305ecd320d89b9e343c04a1a897dc1353353da55b6d277f5398034b265ea" data-rendition-name="original" width="902" height="1103" loading="lazy" alt="Sha Bahadur Gurung NT"> <figcaption>Sha Bahadur Gurung, who died at age 65 in prison in Bhutan after serving 30 years for expressing political opinion.</figcaption> </figure>  He was referred to a hospital in Thimphu, suggesting that he was still alive during transfer to a local health post. But it appears that he had already died before being taken from prison. Gurung’s death occurred two days before Bhutan’s National Day on 17 December, when families, supporters, and human rights advocates worldwide had hoped for the release of political prisoners through a royal amnesty. Instead, the death of one of the longest-serving political prisoners has caused grief and anger in the Bhutanese diaspora.&nbsp; “We strongly condemn the treatment and death of Gurung, a peaceful and justice-loving Bhutanese citizen,” the V statement said. ‘This tragedy raises serious questions about the treatment of political prisoners in Bhutan and stands in stark contrast to the country’s international image under the principles of Gross National Happiness, compassion, and mindfulness.’ Earlier this year, The <a href="https://www.ohchr.org/en/special-procedures/wg-arbitrary-detention/opinions-adopted-working-group-arbitrary-detention/opinions-adopted-working-group-arbitrary-detention-its-101st-session" target="_blank">United Nations Working Group on Arbitrary Detention</a> said the Bhutan government was detaining citizens without parole for <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/detainees-in-dire-straits-in-bhutan-s-prisons" target="_blank">expressing political opinion</a>. The New York-based Human Rights Watch (HRW) said in 2023 that there were least 37 <a href="https://www.hrw.org/news/2023/03/13/bhutan-free-long-term-political-prisoners" target="_blank">political prisoners</a> in Bhutan’s jails. Of them, 32 belong to the Nepali-speaking Lhotshampa community, which has faced <a href="https://www.hrw.org/news/2003/06/18/nepal-bhutanese-refugees-rendered-stateless" target="_blank">decades of discrimination and abuse</a> and eviction. Most of them were convicted because of prohibited political activity between 1990 and 2008. One political prisoner, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/no-country-for-dissent?fbclid=IwAR07lpitMBWAYSkny_3d_smQBlmoxAOQm1OxdNtl-27h8mV0RNO9IxVY2qs" target="_blank">Madhukar Monger</a>, who was released in 2023 after serving 29 years described brutal conditions in <a href="https://www.hrw.org/asia/bhutan" target="_blank">Bhutan</a>'s jails. Political prisoners were not given enough food, and medical care, he said, urging the internaitoonal community to press for the release of prisoners of conscience.&nbsp; In March, <a href="https://www.hrw.org/about/people/meenakshi-ganguly" target="_blank">Meenakshi Ganguly</a>, Deputy Asia director at Human Rights Watch, urged Bhutan’s international partners to call on the Bhutan government to release all remaining political prisoners immediately.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251224161216_9d11a78ed5490091c595341900e4c26f5c0dd0328718f6930ef19c1e9b7f95a6.jpg" data-media-id="editor_8" data-image-id="20251224161216_9d11a78ed5490091c595341900e4c26f5c0dd0328718f6930ef19c1e9b7f95a6" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="1422" loading="lazy" alt="Bhutan political prisoners NT"> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251224161216_176855f3d3df42d24ac7e77372bbf49115695b732a6c094a66267e969111dfca.jpg" data-media-id="editor_9" data-image-id="20251224161216_176855f3d3df42d24ac7e77372bbf49115695b732a6c094a66267e969111dfca" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="1420" loading="lazy" alt="Bhutan political prisoners NT"> </figure>  &nbsp;

Bhutan political prisoner dies in detention

Nepal’s Gurkha soldiers have a well-deserved reputation worldwide for uncommon valour and loyalty. However, what happened in Hawaii in 1986 and the long struggle for fair pay and pension shows that the formidable fighters from Nepal also do not tolerate injustice. The Hong Kong-based 1st Battalion of the 7th Duke of Edinburgh’s Own Gurkha Rifles was in Hawaii for jungle warfare training exercises at the Joint Pacific Multinational Readiness Center when they beat up their commanding officer, Major Corin Pearce. &nbsp;&nbsp; The Gurkhas said Pearce had insulted them, and 111 soldiers were dismissed. Pearce suffered broken ribs and a head injury, and was himself also discharged. The incident got worldwide publicity and enforced the belief that the Nepalis were not treated fairly in the British Army. It also led some retired soldiers to begin a decades-long struggle for compensation at par with their British peers.&nbsp; Retired British Gurkha soldier Shankar Rai in his book Triumph and Tears revisits the Hawaii incident which he witnessed, and also his experience in the Falkland Islands/Malvinas war in 1982.&nbsp; He has lots of grievances: unequal treatment and injustice from the British Army towards himself and his comrades. This is an indignant and disillusioned account of the good, the bad and the ugly of being a British Gurkha, which he says let him down despite his service and belief in it.&nbsp; The book could also be a cautionary tale of how one person on a power-trip can tarnish two centuries of the shared history of Nepal and the UK, as well as ruin the lives of those involved. It also is proof that loyalty should never be taken for granted. Four years after defeating the Argentinians in the Falklands, several companies and platoons of Gurkha rifles were stationed in Hawaii in 1986 for joint US-UK ‘Exercise Union Pacific’ military exercises. The goal was to ‘perfect the art of marine warfare in collaboration with the US Marine Force’. The rules were that a British Gurkha company commander needed to have the rank of major and pass a Nepali language test. Captain Pearce was the son-in-law of a British Brigadier on extra-regiment employment, and this rule was waived. He was appointed Acting Major. Pearce didn’t bother to learn Nepali language or culture, and from Rai’s account took every chance to belittle and embarrass the Gurkhas as poor, stupid, rude, backward, and lucky to be there. He writes: ‘After Captain Pearce reached Hawaii, he began to project himself as a master and the Gurkhas as servants, to show off to the Americans.’ The author also recounts other slights, such as only receiving a fourth of the rations they were due during hard training, being forced to train even when some of the soldiers had high fever, and claims to have ‘civilised’ the Nepalis.&nbsp; Pearce had been to eastern Nepal before the training and seen the grinding poverty. He kept telling the Gurkhas how lucky they were to be in the job, and that they were making ‘more money than Nepal’s prime minister’. During the final farewell party in Hawaii, Pearce set up tables to form a saluting platform, and asked the Gurkha pipe and drum band to march around him while playing. The enraged soldiers could not take it anymore, and after the party an inebriated group ran Captains Pearce and Chandra Kumar Pradhan out of their tents and beat them up. Both officers broke ribs, and the major needed 15 stitches on his head. ‘This sorry and unseemly episode is considered to have been entirely at odds with the Brigade of Gurkhas’ tradition of loyalty and gallant service in the British Army. It is regarded as an isolated and untypical event, which will not be permitted to detract from the high esteem in which the Brigade is held,’ reads the report of an investigation. Most of the 1/7 company soldiers were dismissed whether they had been involved in the assault or not. The author describes the shame that followed, with dismissed soldiers returning to Nepal with lost face.&nbsp; ‘I burned with humiliation, and life scared me,’ writes the author, whose father told him that he was ashamed to call him his son. ‘Many of my friends’ girlfriends left them and married other people. Rifleman Khem Gurung (21162015) of Itahari committed suicide,’ writes Rai, adding that those dismissed were blacklisted, and could not get other jobs.&nbsp; They tried to pursue legal action against the British Government, but backed down when they could not afford expensive hotshot lawyers, and would not have the money to cover the British government’s legal fees in the likely case of a loss in court. Gurkhas who had served for four years in the UK were allowed to move there, an option that many of those dismissed in the Hawaii incident took, including the author, who now lives in Oxford. Rai pours out his hurt and emotion in the book. Towards the end, he writes: ‘I depend on small jobs for livelihood. In the remaining time, I actively raise the issue of the victims of the Hawaii incident. We are burdened with insults, hatred, and contempt for a lifetime. It was harsher than a court martial, too heavy to bear.’ The is a slim book, and is a quick, engaging read of an incident 30 years ago, and Rai writes with a soldier’s precision. Even though the anger shows even after all these years, there is no over-dramatisation in the narrative.&nbsp; The first part of the book is about sailing across the South Atlantic in the QEII, which had been converted into a troop ship to take the Gurkhas to war. The soldiers from landlocked Nepal were mostly sea-sick, but were happy to get two cans of beer a day. Barclays Bank even had a branch on board. Rai’s descriptions of the friendships he developed in the Company and on the battlefield are poignant. They braved Argentinian bombs, dug trenches and fought through the rain in the Southern Hemisphere winter. There are vignettes of sharing tea with fellow Nepalis, seeing comrades fall, and finding pictures of wives and children in the pockets of dead young Argentine soldiers. Behind the prestige, honour and myths of being a Gurkha soldier, it seems this is just another job with nepotism, horrible bosses and bad pay. But such is the desperation that up to 20,000 young Nepalis still apply for 300 openings in the British Army every year. &nbsp;&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251227041256_694a253e782c83b0bf89fc1b9840b0ade3f7beca2d0b01dbc4fcd3e63c207f50.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20251227041256_694a253e782c83b0bf89fc1b9840b0ade3f7beca2d0b01dbc4fcd3e63c207f50" data-rendition-name="original" width="1136" height="702" loading="lazy" alt="Triumph and tears book details NT"> </figure>

Not taking loyalty for granted

After a week of to-and-fro that culminated in all-night bargaining, two populist young figures in Nepali politics agreed at 4AM on Sunday to join forces ahead of elections in March. Rabi Lamichhane of the RSP, who came out of jail a week ago, has forged an alliance with Kathmandu mayor Balen Shah. Both are keen to ride on the GenZ wave that radically changed the direction of Nepal’s politics that has been dominated by three mainstream parties for the past three decades. Under the 7-point deal, Lamichhane will still head the RSP, while Shah has been promised prime ministership if the party wins a majority in the federal elections. Shah will also be the parliamentary party leader. The RSP will keep its name and election symbol. “Agreements must be made not on the basis of what leaders want, but on what the country needs,” Lamichhane wrote on social media announcing the alliance. The RSP chair is said to have put his own prime ministerial aspirations on hold to ensure the Kathmandu Mayor's support for the March polls. This is an alliance of convenience. Lamichhane requires the backing from Shah’s youth voters to face the legacy parties, while the mayor needs a political platform. Ultimately the prospect of leading not just Kathmandu but Nepal itself appears to have been the deciding factor for Balen Shah. The Kathmandu mayor is reportedly keen to contest the election from Jhapa against former prime minister K P Oli in his constituency.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251228041212_1b26fd7f14e418a9bdb827a7b733914c08183c36b4a93694fc1aefda9f45d85a.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20251228041212_1b26fd7f14e418a9bdb827a7b733914c08183c36b4a93694fc1aefda9f45d85a" data-rendition-name="original" width="900" height="900" loading="lazy" alt="Balen-Rabi alliance"> <figcaption>Photo: BALEN SHAH, RABI LAMICHHANE / FACEBOOK</figcaption> </figure>  The two have much in common. Lamichhane, a former tv anchor, returned from the United States and launched the RSP as an alternative party four months before elections in 2022. He served as Home Minister twice in Pushpa Kamal Dahal's coalition government before being jailed for defrauding cooperatives depositers. He made a jail break during the September protests, returned to prison voluntarily, and was released on bail last week. Balen Shah stood as an independent candidate for mayor of Kathmandu in local elections in 2022, and was catapulted to victory because of anti-incumbent protest votes among urban youth.&nbsp; Both campaigned on social media, pushing a populist anti-corruption agenda and against the governance failure of the three establishment parties — the same logic that drove the GenZ protests in September that escalated into violence and brought down the UML-NC coalition. Even as government buildings smouldered on 10 September, GenZ members were strongly urging Balen Shah to be the interim prime minister, but when he declined they voted on Discord for former chief justice Sushila Karki.&nbsp; With just over two months to go for elections on 5 March, Prime Minister Karki has been trying desperately to get the mainstream parties on board. She has met twice with the top leaders of the UML, NC and the NCP. All three parties have been dealing with internal power struggles, and the UML appears to be the most reluctant to face elections.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251228051212_d42944e014b278d6864270b74f924ac842d6f7a68d5bd6817148d120522ba60b.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20251228051212_d42944e014b278d6864270b74f924ac842d6f7a68d5bd6817148d120522ba60b" data-rendition-name="original" width="2048" height="1365" loading="lazy" alt="Sushila Karki with political leaders"> <figcaption>Prime Minister Sushila Karki has been meeting with leaders of the mainstream parties to get them on board for the election. Photo: PMO</figcaption> </figure>  The UML’s former prime minister K P Oli has refused summons by the Judicial Inquiry Commission charged with investigating the massacre of protesters on 8 September and the arson and vandalism the next day. Then home minister Ramesh Lekhak is scheduled to give his deposition to the Commission this week. The legacy parties appear to be taking the threat from the Rabi-Balen partnership strongly, and have been trying to forge an electoral alliance so they do not compete against each other.&nbsp; They are relying on traditional vote banks among the rural electorate, and calculate that alternative forces will cancel themselves out. They could also be hoping that Balen Shah’s erratic behaviour and Rabi Lamichhane’s prison conviction will put voters off. A total of 837,094 first-time voters have been registered in Nepal ahead of the elections.&nbsp; The Kathmandu mayor is an engineer and rap artist, and had till now been reclusive, preferring to post on social media rather than face the press. His late-night online posts have been impulsive: like the one urging that Singha Darbar be burnt down, or another one recently in which he used the f-word against the US, China, India and the mainstream parties. He later deleted both posts.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251228041212_a2f87881e36fb40b82bf77e1b07003aaf36b91e2a9eb5da096f1e562654c31e3.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20251228041212_a2f87881e36fb40b82bf77e1b07003aaf36b91e2a9eb5da096f1e562654c31e3" data-rendition-name="original" width="1112" height="1440" loading="lazy" alt="Balen Rabi agreement NT"> <figcaption>The seven-point agreement between Shah and Lamichhane. </figcaption> </figure>  Lamichane and Shah had also been negotiating with Energy Minister Kulman Ghising’s newly-forced Ujyalo Nepal Party, but the bargaining did not go well because Ghising refused to fight elections under the RSP banner. If the three had been successful in coming together, it would have been a formidable alliance. There are misgivings about the RSP-Balen Shah deal, even among some GenZ who see the two prominent men dividing up the power structure as just the kind of political culture they wanted to reform. Many are already predicting exactly the kind of clash of egos between the two alpha males that characterised Nepali politics since the restoration of democracy in 1990. In the coming days, as with most political change in Nepal, there will be much speculation about the geopolitics behind the Rabi-Balen deal. Balen Shah’s angry post against India-US-China as well as his past nationalistic pronouncements on Nepal’s territorial dispute with India over Kalapani will be recalled, while Beijing has misgivings about the antecedents of some GenZ figures. Dharan-mayor Harka Sampang, who has also formed his own political party, has already pronounced the Rabi-Balen deal as being “foreign backed”.

Old vs New in Nepal in 2026

This is the 77th episode of Diaspora Diaries, a Nepali Times series in collaboration with Migration Lab providing a platform to share experiences of living, working and studying abroad. I was in Grade 3 when my father left for Saudi Arabia. Letters he sent occasionally contained photos. We had to get used to matching the person in the photos with him when he came home. Over two decades later, I left behind my son a day after he was born to go to Korea.&nbsp; He was five when I returned, and he just could not believe I was the same person he spoke on video calls. To convince him that it was indeed me, I had to call him on video from the other room.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251224021240_3eead7a26ee34bab17e1b462d3e53ae8b4dc95151478e55b09f2855989364015.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20251224021240_3eead7a26ee34bab17e1b462d3e53ae8b4dc95151478e55b09f2855989364015" data-rendition-name="original" width="1080" height="960" loading="lazy" alt="Jumli coffee DD"> </figure>  Technology, it turns out, is no replacement to proximity and physical presence.&nbsp; When my father was in Saudi Arabia, my mother died. My father could not return to Nepal immediately, and my grandmother took in my two sisters and me.&nbsp; My studies took a hit. I started working in a shoe shop, and earned Rs2,100 a month. I wanted to start a shoe shop with support from my father when he returned. He did not, and neither did my other relatives. Perhaps they doubted my business sense. Or they had other priorities.&nbsp; Whatever it was, this feeling of not having someone to back me up hit me deeply but give me confidence. Without alternatives, I decided to prepare to migrate to Korea. I studied for the language exam and was among the first cohort under the G2G scheme. When I was finally matched with a Korean employer, I could not be happier.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251224021248_5f681863a9aa99f31f3241158e636b32aca9fdaa7c3f5c19dd67e3de2068a3b5.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20251224021248_5f681863a9aa99f31f3241158e636b32aca9fdaa7c3f5c19dd67e3de2068a3b5" data-rendition-name="original" width="1064" height="823" loading="lazy" alt="Jumli coffee DD"> </figure>  Not having received any support from those around me, the Korean offer made me feel like I had won in life. My grandmother was happy because it would increase family income. She had three additional mouths to feed, and we were quickly growing up. She worried about getting my sisters married. My first stint in Korea, however, was not what I expected. I had to change jobs multiple times, either because the company I worked for was unable to pay me, there was no work, or I had an accident. The odds just were not in my favour. The global financial crisis had taken a toll on the economy.&nbsp; Even so, I managed to help pay for my sisters' weddings and had modest savings. But there was not much to show for it compared to my peers. Never again, I thought, as I said goodbye to Korea.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251224021240_f303dd30f922776a30a1871b38e5420534e73b99b7b1444b4658c4eca535d043.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20251224021240_f303dd30f922776a30a1871b38e5420534e73b99b7b1444b4658c4eca535d043" data-rendition-name="original" width="856" height="1279" loading="lazy" alt="Jumli coffee DD"> </figure>  I came home and got married. I started a mobile repair shop. But it did not work out well either, and I was soon headed back to Korea despite my misgivings. I left a day after my son was born, and this time I was determined to make it work in Korea. I was placed in a company that made golf balls. It paid well, but the job was just for money, I needed to do something more with my future that would help me stand on my own feet once I was back in Nepal. I was intrigued by the three-in-one instant coffee sachets in Korea that had coffee, milk and sugar. Back home in our village in Kaski, our cooperative grew coffee that either went to waste or fetched very low prices. My sisters and I used to pick the sweet and tasty coffee cherries.&nbsp; I saw a great business prospect in turning the beans into coffee sachets, and started exploring this. That was my mission: to make instant coffee packets widely available in Nepal. It was just a matter of understanding the process so I went to a migrant resource centre in Korea to inquire about where I could learn this.&nbsp; I was advised to take barista classes, and I found out that sachet coffee is actually not healthy and I should instead learn about fresh brewed coffee. That seemed even more exciting. How coffee beans could be ground and sold for over Rs450 in Korean cafes that people waited in line for bemused me. During my free time, I spent all my energy learning about coffee. I took training in barista, coffee sensory, machine repair and roasting. I had to rely on the generosity of Koreans who were willing to take a chance on me as I had different constraints such as lack of network, a busy work schedule at my regular job but even then, people offered to help.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251224021244_86bbfcdcbe8925c46efac526225aea226b7987290f8107e991d8e764cbb01155.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20251224021244_86bbfcdcbe8925c46efac526225aea226b7987290f8107e991d8e764cbb01155" data-rendition-name="original" width="1280" height="960" loading="lazy" alt="Jumli coffee NT"> </figure>  I was so obsessed that whenever I spent time on leisure activities during days off, I felt guilty. My golf ball job was just for income, I had to invest in my real post-Korea life. Balancing work and learning everything about coffee was not easy. Not only did I pay for some of the lessons, I even skipped overtime hours for them. But this was for my future. I must have consulted over a dozen coffee experts in Korea to share their experience and connect me to people. I could not afford to be shy about asking strangers for help. When the pandemic hit, we were granted a one-year visa extension, and I took it as an opportunity to invest in myself. I had seen great business prospects for coffee machine repair service in Pokhara because people had to rely on Kathmandu. But to learn machine repair and maintenance, I had to spend more time and weekend classes were not going to be sufficient.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251224021248_18996ee0b6292070add202cf948f5b0b5a09e5b11022b9d961a68a5a886fc5f4.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20251224021248_18996ee0b6292070add202cf948f5b0b5a09e5b11022b9d961a68a5a886fc5f4" data-rendition-name="original" width="1138" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Jumli coffee DD"> </figure>  I moved to a training company and worked just enough to maintain my legal status. I did not take overtime shifts. Even my roommates barely saw me because I used to come home long after our duty hours from my coffee training. I also needed actual job experience so I asked my trainer to let me shadow him at work.&nbsp; The on-the-job exposure to repair and maintenance work gave me more confidence and expertise. When I returned to Nepal, I came home with a suitcase full of coffee machine parts. I have started a coffee shop called Jumli, provide machine repair services and have also started growing my own coffee. The idea is to be a one stop shop for all players in the coffee industry, whether it is farmers or coffee shop owners who need Nepal-grown coffee or machine repair services or coffee lovers.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251224021248_0fd28dab75d1eddbc16ab0aeda2ce7fcd4aceb07e7a381d4ce872b5184bea086.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20251224021248_0fd28dab75d1eddbc16ab0aeda2ce7fcd4aceb07e7a381d4ce872b5184bea086" data-rendition-name="original" width="1321" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Jumli coffee DD"> </figure>  It is not always easy being an entrepreneur in Nepal. Sometimes, when I am on shaky ground, I close my eyes and talk to my mother in my head for clarity. Some of these conversations are replays of the things she told me when I was growing up. I didn’t take them seriously then, but now they offer important nuggets of wisdom about life, society, and how to navigate difficult times. I have a lot of hope for the future. I am now laying the groundwork to one day export Nepal’s specialty coffee to the international market, meeting global standards of quality. Programs like the Returnee Innovators for Nepal (RIN) help in equipping you with the skills to better pitch your business and give exposure and networks. Even now, I rely on my trainer in Korea for guidance or to access spare parts that are not available in Nepal. I have come a long way from the day I cluelessly chose ‘American-O’ coffee because it was the easiest drink to pronounce in the menu. I never thought I would be making a living from coffee back home in Nepal one day.&nbsp;

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