Burning contracts, not cash
In Nepal infrastructure announcements tend to promise more than they deliver. Roads are planned but not paved. Dams are inaugurated but not constructed. Yet one name cuts through this mediocrity: Kulman Ghising. He is the bureaucrat who, in 2016, ended the rolling blackouts that had darkened Nepali households for decades. Now after a politically charged dismissal earlier this year, Ghising has returned not to one institution, but to three of the most dysfunctional: Energy; Water Resources and Irrigation; and Physical Infrastructure and Urban Development.
Within days of taking office on September 15th, Ghising launched a reform blitz. He ordered the cancellation of stalled contracts and the seizure of idle contractors’ bank guarantees as well as the recovery of billions of rupees in unpaid electricity dues from the industrial elite. His actions are not flamboyant but they cut to the heart of Nepal’s development malaise: a political economy built around the toleration of inefficiency.
Few ministries in Kathmandu operate with any measurable benchmarks. Project overruns are expected. Payments are made regardless of completion. In a review meeting on September 19th, Ghising challenged that norm by calling for a full inventory of “sick” projects. Within 48 hours he declared that contracts for long-neglected works would be cancelled and re-tendered under a stricter procurement regime. “No contractor will be allowed to walk away from responsibilities,” he declared.
Such threats are not new. What is different is Ghising’s track record of following through. In 2016 as head of the Nepal Electricity Authority, he cut power to defaulting industries and refused to entertain political interference. At the time, he reversed the policy of uninterrupted power supply to big industries at the public’s expense, a move that won him public admiration and elite enemies in equal measure.
His old battles are now new again. Ghising’s first order of business was to restart the recovery of some NPR 8bn owed by over 40 industrial firms that use dedicated feeder lines—essentially VIP circuits that guaranteed uninterrupted supply during Nepal’s power crisis. These lines carried premium tariffs, but industrialists resisted payment, arguing bills should be based on Time-of-Day (ToD) meters, which measure power use during peak and off-peak hours. The NEA claims technical constraints make retrospective ToD billing impossible.
This dispute has been festering since 2015. A government commission led by a former supreme court justice failed to resolve it. In 2025 Ghising’s efforts to pursue collections as NEA chief led to his premature dismissal, months before his term was to end. Now as minister, he holds the pen that signs off on NEA leadership. Indeed he has replaced the executive director who succeeded him with an ally, Manoj Silwal, to serve a full four-year term.
Ghising’s second act is not only about recovering lost time or dues. At a meeting with the Renewable Energy Confederation Nepal (RECON) on September 21st, he unveiled plans to eliminate the 10% cap on renewables in the national grid with the goal of achieving net-zero emissions by 2045. Nepal already generates over 90% of its electricity from hydro, but its use of solar, wind as well as biogas is still minimal and fragmented.
RECON urged the minister to implement the Renewable Energy and Energy Efficiency Act, 2080; introduce net metering; and decentralise generation to allow more rooftop solar and localised grids. The group also pitched energy policy as a youth employment strategy, particularly for Gen Z, which led the anti-establishment protests recently that toppled the coalition government.
Nepal is not the only nation facing a credibility crisis around infrastructure delivery. Across much of South and Southeast Asia, ministries oversee vast portfolios of incomplete roads, dams and power plants—funded by loans and grants but mired in execution. The World Bank estimates that delays and cost overruns raise the effective price of infrastructure in low-income countries heavily. Yet governments rarely penalise non-performance. In that context, Ghising’s campaign to confiscate bank guarantees from idle contractors is rational.
This time Ghising has returned as a minister. This offers leverage but also limits. As a political appointee, he must now navigate the same incentives that previously worked against him. Nepal’s party system is fragmented and its administrative apparatus is weak. And although the public reveres him, few political elites have an interest in turning the spotlight toward procurement reform.
It is tempting to see Ghising as a one-man antidote to Nepal’s developmental gridlock. But that would be missing the point. His greatest contribution may not be eliminating blackouts or accelerating contract enforcement—it may be redefining what governance can mean in a low-capacity state. When a system runs on impunity for too long, even basic enforcement can seem like a revolution.
For the moment, Nepal has its lights on and its most capable public servant back at the switchboard. ■
