Under pressure Image: iStock.com/AP Tolang
In 2021 Nepal contributed a mere 0.08% of global greenhouse-gas emissions. By volume it ranked 81st in the world. Yet the cost it paid for a climate crisis it did little to cause arrived with devastating force in September last year. Torrential rains, intensified by global warming, triggered floods from the Kathmandu Valley to the plains of the east. The disaster killed 249 people, displaced more than 10,000 families and destroyed infrastructure worth NPR 46.7bn ($370m), or 0.8% of GDP. For a nation with fragile fiscal capacity, such shocks amount to a compounding economic burden, and a moral one for the world’s biggest emitters.
That is why the ruling issued on July 23rd by the International Court of Justice (ICJ) in The Hague has stirred Nepal’s legal and diplomatic circles. In an unprecedented advisory opinion, the ICJ declared climate change constitutes an “urgent and existential threat” and that states have obligations—rooted in both human rights and environmental treaties—to protect people from it. Failing to do so, the court said, could constitute an “internationally wrongful act”. This applies not only to countries that have ratified climate agreements but also to those that have not. The ruling, although non-binding, creates a new interpretative foundation for climate accountability under international law.
Nepali officials were quick to welcome the verdict. The decision could serve as the basis for future claims of compensation or restitution against big emitters. Activists hope it will embolden legal cases and sharpen negotiating leverage at multilateral forums. For countries like Nepal, where the physical consequences of climate inaction are by now visible in eroded hillsides and submerged fields as well as failing crops, the ruling provides a rare judicial weapon that converts moral grievance into legal vocabulary.
The legal journey that led to this point began far from Kathmandu. In 2019 a group of law students at the University of the South Pacific in Fiji proposed a bold assignment: persuade the United Nations to seek the ICJ’s opinion on climate obligations. With the backing of Vanuatu and other small island states, that campaign culminated in a UN General Assembly request in 2023. Two years and hundreds of submissions later, the court delivered its answer. In doing so it rejected the long-standing position that climate responsibility should be dictated only by specific treaties. It also hinted states may have duties to regulate polluting companies (even when privately owned).
The timing is critical for Nepal. Its emissions have risen steadily with a compound annual growth rate of 2.6% between 1990 and 2021. Domestic pressure to grow hydroelectric capacity and expand road networks, including through forested regions, places it in a dilemma. Economic development demands energy and infrastructure. But climate impacts are hammering both. In the September floods road losses alone amounted to NPR 28bn: an indictment of brittle engineering and shortsighted planning in a monsoon-prone region.
The ICJ’s ruling does not impose immediate obligations. But it changes the narrative terrain. Future lawsuits against carbon majors or high-emitting states can now cite an authoritative opinion that links environmental degradation to violations of human rights and international legal norms. That is particularly valuable for Nepal, whose voice in global climate diplomacy is limited by size and resources. Legal opinion can amplify what political weight cannot.
There are still limitations. The ruling is advisory and not enforceable. Big emitters like America have either withdrawn recognition of the ICJ’s jurisdiction or ignore its findings when inconvenient. Legal scholars warn the court, by reaching so far into matters of national policy, risks overreach and political irrelevance. The judges themselves acknowledged as much, noting law has a limited role unless accompanied by political will and social change. The ruling is a starting point to build on, rather than the limit of what can be done.
The Nepali government meanwhile must resist the temptation to invoke victimhood without introspection. Domestic emissions remain low in aggregate but soaring trends and policy inertia suggest a drift toward carbon lock-in. Diesel generators, brick kilns and an explosion of motorcycles point to an urban metabolism built on short-term convenience. Decentralised planning and weak enforcement worsen the trend. If the ICJ’s opinion is to matter at home it must inform regulatory reform and guide investment choices, not merely diplomatic rhetoric.
Where the ruling might prove most consequential is in anchoring loss-and-damage claims. The global climate finance architecture remains slow and reactive. Negotiators from vulnerable states have spent decades asking for predictable funding to rebuild after disasters. With the ICJ framing climate inaction as potentially unlawful, the political calculus changes. Donors and multilateral institutions may now face swelling pressure to link financial support to legal responsibility, rather than voluntary generosity.
Nepal for now is a petitioner without a courtroom. It has no immediate plans to file claims under the ICJ’s new framework, and any such move would require legal capacity it does not yet possess. But the precedent is clear. In the future a Nepali diplomat armed with flood data and hydrological maps may enter a tribunal or negotiation with firmer ground underfoot.
The climate crisis has upended traditional notions of sovereignty and responsibility. The ICJ’s verdict brings the law closer to that reality. For Nepal, caught between Himalayan glaciers and tropical floods, it is not the end of legal ambiguity. But it may be the beginning of legal clout. ■
