IMAGE: THE NEW YORK TIMES
Nepal’s streets have spoken more clearly than its politicians. In the recent protests triggered by anger at corruption and repression, dozens of young demonstrators were killed and scores more injured. Their demand is disarmingly simple: that the ruling class face the same laws as ordinary citizens. The interim government now weighs whether to seize the passports of former prime ministers and senior party bosses under investigation for graft and abuse of office. That is an unprecedented prospect in Nepal where impunity has been the coin of politics.
The constitutional machinery exists. The Commission for the Investigation of Abuse of Authority (CIAA), the anti-graft body, is empowered to investigate and prosecute those accused of misusing public office. Corruption statutes impose few time limits. In principle, even former prime ministers can be brought before the courts. The interim cabinet has begun shifting key investigative agencies—the Revenue Investigation Department, the Money Laundering Investigation Department and the National Investigation Department—back under ministerial control, reversing the centralisation of power under KP Sharma Oli in 2018. Legal tools are therefore not lacking. What has been absent is the political will to use them.
Public anger has forced the government’s hand. The deaths of at least 75 protesters are not merely a human tragedy but a political reckoning. Gen Z demonstrators, many of them jobless or disillusioned with stagnant prospects, have fixed on corruption as the root of national decay. For a generation that sees mass migration as its only viable future, watching elites stash wealth has become intolerable. Suspending passports—denying accused leaders the ability to spirit assets overseas—has become a potent symbol. The government’s hint that figures such as Sher Bahadur Deuba, Mr Oli and Pushpa Kamal Dahal may face restrictions signals the beginning of an assault on the culture of untouchability at the summit of Nepali politics.
Yet symbolism is not justice. To translate protest into accountability means more than confiscating travel documents. Investigations must be credible, evidence-led and procedurally sound. The risk of selective justice looms large. Nepal’s corruption watchdog has in the past been wielded as a political cudgel, sparing allies while pursuing rivals. Without a demonstrable break from that pattern, prosecutions may appear as vendettas rather than the enforcement of law. That would embolden the accused and sap public trust further.
The timing is dangerous. An interim government, by definition, is a caretaker. Its mandate is to maintain order until fresh elections. Yet Nepal’s law does not preclude it from initiating prosecutions; indeed the CIAA has previously filed cases against serving and former leaders in periods of political flux. What matters is the independence of the process. International experience suggests that transitional periods can be moments of decisive accountability: South Korea’s jailing of presidents on corruption charges did not wait for political calm. Delay in Nepal would merely deepen suspicion that the political class remains immune to scrutiny.
The government should therefore allow the CIAA and the special commission it has formed to operate with complete transparency, publishing findings swiftly and resisting the temptation to interfere. Prosecutors must be equipped with resources to follow complex trails of illicit wealth, often hidden abroad. Courts must be insulated from pressure, both domestic and foreign. Travel restrictions on suspects should be a prelude, not a substitute, for cases in court. Most important, prosecutions must reach across party lines, lest justice look partisan.
There is a further prize. A credible campaign against elite corruption would not only satisfy protesters but also strengthen battered institutions. Foreign investors, wary of a system where contracts are auctioned to cronies, would take notice. Donors who bankroll much of Nepal’s development agenda would find reason to attach stricter conditions to aid. For citizens, especially the young, seeing the mighty answer to the law could begin to restore the legitimacy of a democratic order that today appears hollow.
The paradox is stark. For decades the political class has invoked democracy while looting the state. Now the survival of democracy may depend on that class being held to account by an unelected caretaker administration. The interim government should seize the moment, because failing to prosecute corruption at the top will not quiet the streets. It will simply move the next generation’s anger from protest to something far more destabilising.
Nepal’s rulers have always treated accountability as optional. The demand from below is that it become compulsory. ■
