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The Election Commission has clarified vehicles carrying essentials including drinking water, milk, fruits, vegetables, fish, meat, and petroleum products do not require a permit to operate on the day of the election to  the House of Representatives. 

The Commission has stated that Vehicle Permit Procedures, 2082 notes that the vehicles used for telecommunication services, drinking water, electricity, and sewage maintenance, and hospital service (for the movement of hospital doctors and health workers from home to hospital and from hospital to home) will not require a permit to operate on March 5.

Meanwhile, the Commission has recommended to the Government of Nepal to make arrangements so that such vehicles are used only by the concerned users and do not carry unrelated passengers.

In addition, no pass is required for vehicles carrying passengers traveling to and from the airport for international and domestic air services.  

Similarly, vehicles carrying pregnant women, women who are unable to walk, women carrying their own children, women with disabilities, physically challenged people, senior citizen voters who are unable to walk, and one of their helpers will also be able to operate without restrictions.

Vehicles of diplomatic missions with the number plate marked 'CD', vehicles used by observers holding observer identity cards issued by the Commission (only at the places mentioned in the identity cards), vehicles used for monitoring and supervision by the National Human Rights Commission, and vehicles of media persons with press passes will be able to operate smoothly.

Similarly, an integrated vehicle movement desk with representatives from the Election Commission, the Ministry of Home Affairs, and the District Administration Office, Kathmandu has been established on the Election Commission premises to oversee arrangements related to vehicle operation on Election Day. 

The District Administration Offices, Kathmandu, Bhaktapur, and Lalitpur are issuing vehicle passes from the same desk.

Nepal’s current election campaign has evolved into a contest not only of agendas but of tone, political memory, and competing claims over who can best safeguard the republic’s future. While most leaders publicly prioritize stability, governance, and development, their messaging styles—and the political histories they invoke—diverge sharply.

KP Sharma Oli and the Communist Party of Nepal (Unified Marxist–Leninist) (CPN-UML) frame the election as a decisive choice between tested leadership and risky experimentation. Oli’s tone is assertive, combative, and strongly nationalist.

His campaign heavily references two defining moments of his premiership: his stance during the 2015 India–Nepal border disruption and the 2020 constitutional amendment introducing Nepal’s revised political map, incorporating Kalapani, Lipulekh, and Limpiyadhura. Through video messages and public speeches, UML portrays these episodes as evidence of strong leadership defending sovereignty. The party has even framed Sept 8–9 protests as conspiratorial attempts to destabilize the nation and drawn parallels between Nepal’s emerging GenZ activism and “color revolutions,” suggesting foreign-influenced unrest.

The overarching message is clear: only experienced and established leaders can protect sovereignty and ensure economic prosperity. Oli argues that new parties are politically immature and incapable of governing effectively. Aware that youth voters are gravitating toward newer political forces, UML has produced targeted media content urging young voters to trust traditional parties.  Its slogan—CPN-UML now, because the country comes first—reinforces a narrative of national duty and continuity. Party leaders further suggest that Nepal has made significant progress since the democratic restoration of 1990, and that UML’s return is necessary to prevent regression.

In contrast, Pushpa Kamal Dahal adopts a more measured and institutional tone. Rather than foregrounding combative nationalism, he presents himself as a guardian of the federal democratic system born from the 2006 peace process. By invoking his partnership with Girija Prasad Koirala during the Comprehensive Peace Accord, Dahal underscores his claim as one of the architects of the republic. Earlier, he was aggressive toward Oli and aligning himself with new political parties, but of late he is stating that NC, UML and his party will have to collaborate with the forces that burnt down Singhadurbar.

His campaign frames the election as a choice between safeguarding constitutional achievements—federalism, secularism, inclusion—and risking political regression. Unlike Oli, Dahal’s criticism of emerging parties is restrained. He questions their preparedness and long-term seriousness but avoids labeling them threats to the nation. His tone reflects his evolution from insurgent commander to institutional stakeholder: reform, in his framing, must occur within the constitutional system, not through destabilizing rupture.

Gagan Kumar Thapa of the Nepali Congress seeks to position himself between old and new. His rhetoric emphasizes governance reform, anti-corruption, and institutional accountability while defending the democratic legacy of Nepal’s oldest democratic party. Rather than Oli’s defensive nationalism or Dahal’s legacy-based system protection, Thapa projects modernization within tradition, arguing that renewal can and must happen from inside established institutions. Thapa’s says that both Oli’s UML and new political parties are taking extremist positions which can be detrimental for the country. He urges people to vote for the NC’s centrist position.

Outside traditional party hierarchies, new political figures channel voter frustration more directly. Balendra Shah (Balen) employs a blunt, anti-elite style, appealing strongly to urban youth with calls for transparency and technocratic efficiency. His tone is disruptive and unapologetically critical of entrenched political culture. Balen Shah is highlighting the failure of the traditional political parties. He does not seem ideological but is trying to play on the failure of the traditional political parties.

Similarly, Rabi Lamichhane of the Rastriya Swatantra Party frames his campaign around injustice, accountability, and systemic reform. His rhetoric is often confrontational and personally charged, shaped in part by legal controversies that he presents as examples of political persecution. His appeal lies in grievance-driven populism and demands for structural overhaul. At the same time, Lamichhane’s tone is vindictive. He has publicly said that as traditional political parties registered politically motivated cases against him, he will take revenge.

Taken together, the campaign reveals a fundamental tension in Nepali politics. On one side stand leaders like Oli and, in a different register, Dahal—arguing that experienced hands are essential to preserve sovereignty, stability, and constitutional order. On the other side are reformist and anti-establishment figures who insist that generational change, accountability, and structural reform are necessary to move the country forward.

The debate is therefore less about stated goals—since nearly all claim to support stability and development—and more about political trust: whether Nepal’s future lies in consolidating the system built since 2006, or in reshaping it through new leadership and disruptive reform.

As Nepal gears up for elections, campaign agendas may extend beyond routine political promises. One meaningful focus could be legal reform—especially revisiting criminal procedural laws to ensure timely execution of judgments. By prioritizing informed dialogue and legislative amendment, political parties have an opportunity to strengthen Nepal’s justice delivery system and restore public confidence in the rule of law.

“No Judgement of any Court, no order of any Judges, is of any use unless it can be enforced,” rightly said Lord Denning. The administration of criminal justice does not conclude with the pronouncement of judgment. The effectiveness, credibility, and authority of judicial decisions depend largely upon their proper execution.

The National Criminal Procedure Code, 2074 (hereinafter code) under Chapter-15 (Sections 151 to 168) constitute a comprehensive statutory framework governing the recording, execution, postponement, remission, and enforcement of sentences, fines, compensation, pardoning and related orders. After all, executio est finis et fructus legis—an execution is the end and the fruit of law.

Reference may be made to one of the most famous judgments of England. Lord Hewart, CJ, stated it in R v Sussex Justices, ex parte McCarthy (1924), where he said: “Justice should not only be done, but should manifestly and undoubtedly be seen to be done.”

Constitutionally speaking, Article 126(2) of the Constitution of Nepal provides that “everyone shall comply with the orders or decisions given by the court in the course of judicial proceedings.” Likewise, Section 18(1) of the Justice Administration Act, 2073 states that “except as otherwise provided in this Act or the prevailing law, a decision made by any court, body, or authority in the course of judicial proceedings shall be final, and all concerned parties shall abide by such decision.”

Time for legal reform

It is reasonable to argue that the Code is an enlarged version of the State Cases Act, 2049. It provides limited procedural arrangements for private prosecution cases. The code should have incorporated a separate chapter dealing specifically with procedural aspects of private prosecution, such as the lapse of dates, securing dates, and other procedural safeguards.

Section 165(11), which stipulates that personal claims cannot be recovered, the state bears the cost of the prisoner’s ration during imprisonment, effectively shifts the financial burden to the state due to the non-realization of personal claimed amounts. As a result, the state is subjected to an unnecessary burden even in cases arising out of purely private transactions between individuals. In such cases, private individuals are required to approach the court through an application to realize their claims in accordance with judgments delivered in their favor.

As in private prosecution cases, state criminal cases should also recognize the Government of Nepal as the petitioner at the stage of execution. The responsibility of the government should not end with the filing of the case. Rather, it should demonstrate proactive and sustained efforts at the execution stage, similar to its role during investigation and the filing of the charge sheet.

The execution of judgments cannot take their true and effective shape unless state mechanisms commit themselves to withholding state services—such as the issuance or clearance of electricity bills, water bills, or the registration or renewal of transport services—from judgment debtors.

The state should establish a common portal containing information on defendants who have failed to furnish fines, compensation, claimed amounts, or to serve jail sentences as mandated by court judgments. The government should restrict public services to those who fail to comply with court orders and judgments. An amendment could be introduced in this regard under Section 160 of the code and other relevant laws.

Executive’s role is essential

Non-execution of court verdicts fosters a culture of impunity. While the state possesses the police, administrative machinery, prisons, and other executive mechanisms with adequate means to enforce court verdicts, the courts themselves lack enforcement agencies.

Judgments cannot be enforced in letter and spirit unless state mechanisms stand on an equal footing when it comes to execution. The court verdicts cannot be effectively implemented until and unless the executive organs of the state are equally involved in the execution process.

In countries like India, the United States, England, and China, the judicial department delivers judgments, but the executive branch ensures their execution, reflecting the principle of separation of powers.

Other laws

Meanwhile, Section 166 of the Code provides a priority order for recovery, placing fines first, government claims second, followed by compensation, claimed amounts, and lastly other amounts in question.

This provision has significant consequences in cases involving banking offenses, cheque dishonor cases, and private prosecution cases. As a result, plaintiffs in private prosecution cases often suffer in the realization of their claims, as the law mandates the recovery of fines before addressing private claims.

Section 155 allows first-time offenders sentenced to one year or less to substitute imprisonment with a monetary payment—Rs 300 per day. Courts must record reasons and obtain a good conduct deed before granting relief. The amendment changed the language from “may” to “shall,” making the release by payment mandatory.

Way forward

As per Judgment Execution Directorate’s data (as of 17 Nov 2024), there are 106,265 persons whose imprisonment remains to be executed (of which 2,538 are foreign nationals). The remaining imprisonment amounts to 118,613 years, 3 months, and 5 days. The outstanding fines total Rs 2,998,629,509, of which the government’s share is Rs. 212,264,153. Compensation yet to be paid to victims of crime amounts to Rs 931,191,131. Additionally, there are 37,718 pending applications related to judgment execution.

This data paint a depressing reality. But who is to blame? Courts? Certainly not. The courts’ job is to pronounce verdicts and oversee their execution, but the actual enforcement rests with the executive branch.

The court’s job is to judicially examine the case. It is improper for the court to side with the winning party or act against the losing party in the name of executing a judgment.

“A punishment imposed in accordance with a judgment does not attain its purpose unless it is actually executed. A judgment that cannot be enforced also loses its real significance,” held the Supreme Court in the case of Nimesh Lakhe v Lalitpur District Court, et al.

A democratic state should encourage debate and ensure court verdicts are enforced. The executive’s role is crucial—not just in filing cases, but also in implementing judgments. The judiciary’s sole job is to deliver justice; delays in enforcement are the executive’s responsibility.

To uphold the rule of law and end impunity, timely execution of judgments is essential, following practices in other countries. Let’s protect the judiciary, the temple of justice, and make this a priority—even as an election agenda—for good governance and democracy.

The authors work at the Supreme Court and have a keen interest in academic discussions on law

Nepal is days away from electing a new House of Representatives on March 5. This is an election born out of one of the most dramatic political upheavals the country has witnessed in recent time. The GenZ protests of Sept 8–9, shook the foundations of the Nepali Congress and CPN-UML-led coalition government, forced the dissolution of Parliament, and propelled former Chief Justice Sushila Karki into the role of interim Prime Minister. In many ways, this election carries the weight of a nation’s renewed hope to bring the constitutional processes on track. 

And yet, something is quietly poisoning that hope—not a foreign enemy, not a natural disaster, but something far more insidious: a flood of propaganda that is dividing Nepalese society in ways that may take years to repair.

This is not the first election Nepal has held in the wake of political transformation. But it may be the first where the election campaign itself has become more dangerous than the political crisis that preceded it. Across social media feeds, public rallies, and private conversations, Nepali citizens and political cadres are not debating policy, rather they are choosing sides in a war of narratives. And the longer this goes on unchecked, the harder it will be to put the country back together once the votes are counted.

A campaign built on slogans

Walk through the current election campaign landscape and one phrase captures the spirit of it all: ‘Desh banaune ra desh jalaune’—those who will build the country and those who will burn it. It sounds dramatic. It is meant to. And therein lies the problem. Nearly every major political force, either old or new, has reduced the complexity of Nepal’s governance challenges into a simple binary: us versus them, nationalists versus traitors, reformers versus the corrupt establishment. Nepali Congress, reinvigorated under Gagan Thapa following a special party convention, presents itself as a fresh political alternative. 

The newly formed Nepali Communist Party (NCP), which brought together nearly a dozen leftist factions after the September protests, also claims to represent a new dawn. The Rastriya Swatantra Party (RSP), with Balen Shah now formally in its ranks and declared as their prime ministerial candidate, pitches itself as the true outsider ready to dismantle the old order. Meanwhile, CPN (UML) under KP Sharma Oli, who led the government during the protests that triggered this election, is somehow also claiming the nationalist high ground.

The problem is not that parties are presenting themselves favorably. Every political party in every democracy does that. The problem is that these competing narratives have little to do with actual governance proposals. Manifestoes promise extraordinary things: CPN (UML) pledges one million youth jobs in five years. RSP commits to per capita income crossing $3,000 USD. Others promise to slash corruption overnight and send corrupt leaders to jail, without specifying a single credible legal mechanism for doing so. These are not policy platforms. They are propaganda dressed in the language of policy.

Old wounds reopened, new fractures created

Perhaps the most telling sign of how propaganda-driven this election campaign has become is the return of debates that most people assumed were settled by the 2015 Constitution. The monarchy question, which was resolved when Nepal became a federal democratic republic, is somehow back on the table. The Rastriya Prajatantra Party (RPP) has made monarchy restoration a central demand, positioning itself as the only truly nationalist force, implying that everyone else is, to varying degrees, compromised by foreign interests and imposing foreign agenda.

The “who is a nationalist” debate has spread like wildfire. CPN (UML), despite bearing significant political responsibility for what happened during the Sept 2025 protests, now presents itself as a bulwark against foreign interference. RSP’s candidate Sobita Gautam and others were labeled “American agents” on social media—a claim later fact-checked and found to be based on a deliberately misleading photograph. Manipulated AI-generated images of Gagan Thapa being chased by crowds were widely circulated before being debunked. According to Nepal Fact Check, such incidents are not isolated—they reflect a systematic effort to use digital tools to shape perception rather than inform it.

A recent survey by the Center for Media Research Nepal found that over 95 percent of online users in Nepal had encountered false information at some point. With 73 percent of Nepalis now using smartphones and over 37 percent having internet access according to the 2021 National Census, the infrastructure for mass misinformation has never been more complete.

Beyond the monarchy-versus-federalism divide, the Sept 8–9 protests themselves have become a battleground of competing narratives. Sept 8, when security forces killed protesters in the streets, is remembered by some as a day of martyrdom and used by RPP as evidence of state brutality under the then-ruling coalition. Sept 9, when mobs destroyed public and private property, is the image CPN (UML) prefers to amplify, using it to question the legitimacy of the entire protest movement—while staying conspicuously silent about the bloodshed the day before. Nepali Congress and the Nepali Communist Party have taken a more measured position, acknowledging the protests and calling for an independent investigation into both days. But measured voices struggle to compete in an environment where outrage is the currency of engagement.

The invisible global agenda

One of the quieter failures of this election campaign is the near-complete absence of serious debate on the issues that will most shape Nepal’s future over the next decade. Climate change, which threatens Nepal’s glaciers and water security. The restructuring of the global economy, which directly affects remittances—currently surging by over 32 percent and sustaining a foreign reserve of $22.47bn, but fragile nonetheless. 

Youth unemployment and economic inequalities, which were the original fuel behind the GenZ protests. These are the issues that demand substantive policy discussion. Instead, what voters are getting feels less like a parliamentary election and more like a local government campaign—personal, parochial, and driven by personality over platform.

Meanwhile, some leaders, including deposed King Gyanendra, have stated that Nepal’s very existence as a sovereign nation is in question, that the country is ‘close to a major accident’. These are extraordinarily alarming things to say, and they are being said without a shred of evidence. When leaders speak this way without backing, they are not sounding alarm bells, rather they are manufacturing fear. And manufactured fear is one of the oldest and most effective propaganda tools known to politics.

What happens the morning after

When the results come in the following week of March 5, one side will have won and several will have lost. But the deeper question is: what kind of country will Nepal be when the campaign posters come down?

Polarization of the kind being manufactured right now does not disappear after election day. It settles into communities, strains friendships, fractures families, and hardens into the kind of social division that festers for years. None of the current political forces, neither the so-called new ones nor the established ones, seem interested in stepping back from the propaganda machine. Because, simply put, it works. At least in the short term.

This is precisely why the responsibility now falls on those who stand outside the electoral arena: civil society, independent media, academic institutions, and think tanks. Nepal urgently needs serious investment in propaganda fact-checking, not as a reactive exercise after falsehoods have gone viral, but as a proactive, institutionalized function embedded in the election cycle. Organizations like Nepal Fact Check are doing valuable work, but they cannot carry this alone. Tech platforms operating in Nepal, the Election Commission of Nepal, and policy bodies need to come together to build the infrastructure like technical tools, regulatory guidelines, and public literacy programs that can hold propaganda accountable in real time.

There is also a deeper structural issue. Many of the propaganda narratives that have taken hold during this election campaign—about the September protests, about foreign interference, about the monarchy, about federalism—thrive precisely because there has been no credible, independent, evidence-based account of these events that the public can trust. When authoritative information is absent, rumor and spin fill the vacuum. 

Nepal needs white papers from concerned authorities, investigative reporting from independent media, policy briefs from research institutions, and reels and TikTok videos from ethical content creators that can put facts on the table with enough credibility and reach to shift the public conversation. The question, honestly, is whether Nepal has yet built the institutional capacity to do this. If not, that capacity needs to become a priority after this election, regardless of who wins.

A paradigm shift Nepal cannot afford to delay

Nepal has come a long way from a decade-long armed conflict to a constitutional republic with federal democratic governance. That journey was not easy, and it was not free. Thousands of lives and decades of struggle went into building the political framework that now exists. To watch that framework hollowed out by propaganda, not by armed insurgents, but by politicians with microphones and social media accounts, should concern every Nepali citizen deeply.

The March 5 election will happen. A government will be formed. But the work of preventing propaganda from becoming the permanent language of Nepali politics must begin the moment the voting ends. Civil society must speak louder. Journalists must hold the line. Citizens must demand more from their leaders than clever slogans and manufactured fear. Because a country that chooses its leaders based on who tells the most convincing lies is not choosing its future—it is surrendering it.

The author currently serves as a Visiting Research Fellow at Kroc Institute of International Peace Studies at the University of Notre Dame, USA. The author writes on political affairs, peace, governance, and social policy in Nepal