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For trade and development, 2025 is a year like no other. Tariff talks continue to grab headlines. But urgent action is also needed to stop the sun setting on trade development cooperation. This June in Sevilla, global leaders committed to scaling up Aid for Trade (AfT), including doubling AfT provision to the world’s least-developed countries (LDCs), by 2031. However, AfT—which accounts for about one-fifth of official development assistance (ODA)—remains highly exposed to some difficult development assistance challenges. 

ODA dropped seven percent in 2024. And this downward trend is accelerating, with the Organization for Economic Cooperation and Development (OECD) predicting ODA declines of between 10 percent and 18 percent during 2027. LDCs are expected to experience the sharpest falls—of between 13 percent and 25 percent—in 2025. Statistics for AfT specifically are also sobering. In 2023, AfT disbursements fell six percent—from $53bn in 2022 to $50bn in 2023.

Meanwhile, trade needs—from addressing proliferating standards to deepening digital trade cooperation and finding ways to boost investment—are mounting. Targeted support is required to help developing economies, especially smaller ones, meet their trade needs, realize emerging trade opportunities and gain a greater share in global trade. 

Here are three ways we can help deliver on this, despite a challenging backdrop.

Maximum impact from resources

A wealth of knowledge on trade support has been generated over the years. So we have been working to capture experiences and lessons learned. One clear takeaway is that trade support should remain demand-driven, with tailored solutions helping translate global best practices into context-specific impact. For example, the Pacific Aid for Trade Strategy, which focuses on e-commerce, services and connectivity, has been helping to improve trade competitiveness in the region with limited available resources.

In addition, engaging local business remains vital for gaining real-time insights into the most pressing trade challenges, and tapping much-needed finance. For example, the Next Innovation with Japan Initiative has been providing venture capital to help startups in developing countries create new industries and jobs. Having access to information about best practices in trade negotiations and the implementation of trade rules can also be a game changer for policymakers in developing countries. 

Don Stephenson, trade and investment advisor to the Expert Deployment Mechanism for Trade and Development, made the point very well when he said: “Many trade development needs require large investments—to build trade infrastructure like ports and roads, or to increase productive capacity, such as through building factories. These investments must involve the private sector, where the big money is. But sometimes the development gap is knowledge. This is something that can be delivered through investments which are relatively small but that have a large impact.”

WTO’s trade support

The WTO’s technical assistance can play an important role here. Targeted and nimble trade support can help developing economies implement what’s been agreed and gain insights on the latest trade trends. Against a backdrop of declining resources, WTO members are exchanging ideas on how to do more with less, including by building strategic partnerships with international organizations, development agencies and academic institutions.

During my conversations with delegations, I often hear of the need for a one-stop shop for all trade support offered by the WTO. Another recurring suggestion is that we blend online training with face-to-face activities. Encouragingly, everyone agrees that focusing on the WTO’s most vulnerable members should remain central.

Rethink AfT

As we approach the WTO’s 14th Ministerial Conference and the 20th anniversary of the Aid for Trade Initiative next year, 2025 offers an excellent opportunity to reflect on where we are with trade development and where we would like to be. Australia and Barbados, for example, have put forward some ideas to revitalise Aid for Trade.

Over the past 20 years, $730bn has been invested in Aid for Trade to help developing economies, including LDCs, strengthen their capacity to trade. The vast majority of this—97 percent—has been directed at strengthening infrastructure and productive sectors. However, only three percent has been allocated to trade policy and regulations—areas that are crucial for helping create an enabling environment in developing economies for trade and investment. 

Focusing more on channelling trade support toward trade policy and regulations is therefore one practical way we can bolster the integration of developing economies into the multilateral trading system. To explore more ideas on how to help smaller economies boost their share of global trade, join the conversation at the WTO Public Forum on Sept 18.

Arundhati Roy goes:Another world is not only possible, she is on her way. On a quiet day, I can hear her breathing. 

Social movements usually rely on collective imagination to claim that “another world is possible”. For the people involved in social and political movements, this “another world” is imagined as a just, fair, and equitable society, where everything is orderly and harmonious. The same idea I found while talking to a couple of GenZ during their recent demonstration against corruption, misgovernance and social media ban in Nepal.

Nepal has witnessed multiple social movements aiming toward a collective desire to sustain democratic values, freedom, equality, social justice and accountability. The people’s movement of 1990 ended the absolute monarchy and established a constitutional monarchy, whereas the popular movement of 2006 dethroned the monarch and established constitutional supremacy. These movements drifted the nation away from authoritarian control and toward self-determination and freedom.

However, despite these uprisings, Nepal has not got the corruption-free and just society that the citizens fought for. When one regime fails, another adopts the same old system instead of dismantling the corrupt system. Many leaders who rose from the movements later became a part of the institution, where the ideals of justice got absorbed into party politics. One prime example is the leaders of the Maoist revolution, who joined mainstream politics after the 2006 movement and eventually became enmeshed in political power struggles by forgetting the ethos of the revolution.

Despite the re-imagination of a corruption-free society, Nepal got caught in a downward spiral because Nepali politics has long run on corruption. When the political ideals enter the political realm, they encounter power hierarchies and systemic corruption. The collective dream of an ideal state cannot survive the messiness of governance. Corruption or inequality isn’t just in “bad leaders”—it’s embedded in political and economic systems, social hierarchies and even thought processes. It is because human behavior, vested interests, and cultural norms are tied to the very injustices they want to change. 

Another reason why corruption thrives in Nepal is because the supposed opposition is nothing more than the government’s shadow. There is an absence of genuine opposition. Instead of holding the government accountable, the opposition has colluded in the same practices, which leaves no real voice for the checks and balances essential for a healthy democracy.

Social movements, then, act as critical mirrors of society. They show what is intolerable, highlight the problems in the existing society and demand something radically different. These movements turn imagination into political energy and invite society to re-imagine itself. Moreover, they help people imagine a better world together and take action to make it happen. Yet, justice and corruption-free governance are not single-issue goals. They require transformation at several levels—economic, cultural, political and personal. Different movements emerge to tackle different angles of this complex problem.

When the political ideals of the 2006 movement failed, Nepali youths began questioning the lifestyles of politicians’ children. Their brandishment of wealth and an elevated lifestyle, while commoners were forced to migrate to other countries in the Gulf and beyond for meager earnings, were intolerable. The country ran on remittance, and the citizens struggled for a decent life with basic education, health and other services. In such a situation, seeing the children of politicians living a lavish lifestyle agitated the masses. Using social media as a liberal platform, #Nepobaby and #Nepokid started trending. The ban imposed on social media added fuel to the fire, paving the way for the protest to move from digital platforms to the streets. The death of 19 young people on Aug 25 escalated the protest. In the aftermath of the protest, the buildings of all three bodies of the government—legislative, executive and judicial—turned into ashes and Nepal got its first female prime minister.

Even after the appointment of a new prime minister, the struggle towards a corruption-free state is far from over. It is just a stepping stone. Prime Minister Sushila Karki, a former Chief Justice, has many challenges to tackle. To uproot corruption is not an easy task, as corruption isn’t only a top-level problem—it has normalized into everyday practices such as bribes for jobs, favors in bureaucracy and informal payments.

Despite multiple movements emerging for the same end, a corruption-free state remains elusive. As a result, the same “end” is pursued repeatedly—it is never final, but always in process. The “failure” is actually a part of the utopian condition. Ruth Levitas calls utopia a method: it continually critiques, imagines and pushes boundaries, but does not deliver a once-and-for-all solution.

The necessity of multiple movements shows that utopia is alive—it keeps re-emerging wherever injustice persists. Nepal may not achieve its dream of an ideal corruption-free nation anytime soon. But the repeated protests, movements and revolutions are democratic processes that keep the possibility of achieving that end alive. That utopian dream remains somewhere out there on the horizon. For now, the achievement of movements like this lies in realizing democratic values and unifying voices against injustice. It reminds us that the citizens are the watchdogs and protectors of democracy.

The International Court of Justice’s (ICJ) recent advisory opinion marks a historic moment in international environmental law. In this landmark ruling, the court recognized climate change as an “urgent and existential threat” and confirmed that states have “erga omnes obligations,” or duties owed to the global community. For Nepal, this ruling provides a critical legal foundation to demand that historical polluters honor their responsibilities under agreements like the Paris Agreement and related frameworks. Crucially, the ICJ affirmed that environmental protection is essential for human rights, underscoring that climate justice is inseparable from human rights protection.

Climate injustice

There is a saying in Nepali society ”The poison you have not consumed does not affect you.” However, the suffering that Nepal and the Nepali people have endured due to climate change appears to be exactly the opposite of this saying. Like being poisoned by a fault one did not commit.

In case of carbon foot print, Nepal, contributing just 0.027 percent of global greenhouse gas emissions, faces severe climate impacts. These are not distant projections but realities in daily headlines and collective trauma: the devastating drought in Madhesh that crippled farmers; the Glacial Lake Outburst Flood (GLOF) in Thame, a warning from melting glaciers; the destructive floods in Bhotekoshi that swept away lives, homes, and livelihoods; and most recent a reported cholera outbreak in Birgunj, potentially linked to the warming climate, though sources remain unconfirmed yet.

This reality highlights the brutal arithmetic of climate change: its causes are global, yet its burdens fall disproportionately on nations like Nepal. Urgent action—through low-carbon policies, technological adoption, and societal lifestyle shifts—is essential to address this inequity.

Shared vulnerability

The consequences of climate injustice are evident in small island nations like Tuvalu, Kiribati, the Maldives, and the Marshall Islands, which face existential threats: rising seas, severe storms, freshwater scarcity, and infrastructure damage. These challenges threaten all four pillars of statehood—territory, population, governance, and the capacity for international relations. For instance, Tuvalu risks losing its entire physical territory within decades.

Nepal’s melting glaciers are part of this global catastrophe. These shared vulnerabilities unite Himalayan communities with sinking island nations in a collective fight for justice and survival.

Planetary boundaries

The landmark study Earth Beyond Six of Nine Planetary Boundaries (Richardson et al., 2023) confirms that humanity has exceeded safe limits for six of nine critical Earth systems: climate change, biosphere integrity, biogeochemical flows, land-system change, alteration of freshwater systems, and atmospheric aerosol loading. Ocean acidification nears its limit, while stratospheric ozone shows recovery.

These boundaries define the stable conditions supporting human civilization for 10,000 years. Exceeding them underscores a Malthusian reality—that societies are bound by natural limits—and overshooting risks destabilizing systems critical to Nepal’s survival.

Varsities as catalysts

A key barrier to climate action is pluralistic ignorance, where individuals privately worry about climate change but assume others do not, creating a spiral of silence that stifles debate and enables policy inaction. The UK’s Climate Barometer (April 2025) found 56 percent of adults rarely express climate opinions, and only 10% regularly share them. Though no similar surveys exist for Nepal, this pattern likely persists, with climate discourse dominated by technocrats, consultants, and experts, making it inaccessible to the public.

Universities can break this silence. In many Global South institutions like Nepal, students lack resources—computers, internet, and research materials. These future leaders must be empowered to tackle climate challenges. Knowledge-exchange programs between Global North and South universities can provide access to data, journals, professional development, and collaborative research, fostering grassroots capacity-building. NGOs and negotiation groups should prioritize local researchers, ensuring expertise grows where it is most needed.

Technology transfer

Bridging the technology gap between the Global North and South is a long-standing goal of climate negotiations. Yet many technology transfer programs fail due to insufficient local capacity-building. Renewable energy technologies, climate modeling software, mapping tools, and databases remain inaccessible to many in the Global South.

Progress requires local ownership and expertise, supported by Global North funding and collaborative programs. Universities are ideal platforms for these exchanges, ensuring sustainable, locally managed, and contextually appropriate technology adoption.

Transparency and accountability

Nepal has shown leadership in community-based climate adaptation. Its community forestry program empowers locals to manage over 25 percent of its forests, including women and marginalized groups in decision-making. Nepal’s policies align with the Paris Agreement, Kyoto Protocol, and UN Sustainable Development Goals. It aims for net-zero emissions by 2045 and has met its 45 percent forest cover goal. However, achieving these requires $33bn by 2030 for Nationally Determined Contributions (NDCs) and $47bn by 2050 for its National Adaptation Plan (NAP).

Despite resource constraints, communities apply indigenous knowledge to protect forests, preserve water, and pioneer adaptation. For example, Poly Concrete Nepal transforms non-biodegradable polystyrene foam—packaging waste from imported goods not created by Nepal—into lightweight, insulating construction blocks. This circular economy solution cleans up waste, creates jobs, builds resilient homes, and reduces emissions, deserving wider celebration and scaling.International climate funding often operates as a “black box,” with resources diverted to consultants, workshops, and reports rather than reaching communities.

Climate justice as rights

The ICJ’s affirmation that environmental protection is a precondition for human rights highlights how climate impacts amplify inequalities based on gender, caste, ethnicity, and socioeconomic status. For instance, a Dalit woman farmer in Madhesh facing drought encounters greater risks than a wealthy urban man, yet policies rarely address these realities. Climate justice must integrate equity, prioritizing the most vulnerable.

Moving forward requires reframing support as reparative justice, not charity. Resources should flow to community-led initiatives combining indigenous knowledge with innovation. The polluter-pays principle, reinforced by the ICJ, must guide climate finance.

Nepal can leverage international frameworks and local innovation. Directing funds to solutions like Poly Concrete Nepal’s waste-to-resource model, while holding polluters accountable, offers a path forward. The challenge lies not in solutions but in the political will to implement them.

The time for silence has passed

Nepal’s climate crisis is immediate, existential, and tied to global challenges. The ICJ has spoken, science has warned, and communities are innovating. What remains is the courage to act: breaking the spiral of silence, empowering universities, democratizing technology, ensuring transparency, and channeling resources to the frontline.

By combining local innovation with international accountability, Nepal can claim its right to climate justice and inspire the Global South. The era of passive suffering is over; Nepal’s voices must be heard, and global leaders and polluters must listen.

Recalling the days when Nepali football stood tall stadiums jam-packed to the brim, roofless concrete stands echoing with the thunder of supporters, spectators holding their breath in suspense at what would unfold next. Players surged with adrenaline, determined to conquer, while journalists crowded the sidelines, their stories destined for the front pages of national dailies and evening television bulletins. Today, that vibrant era feels like a story from a distant past. More than 800 days have passed without a single tournament, leaving fans and players alike in suspense. Before confronting this long-standing silence, it is worth revisiting the golden chapters of Nepali football, its triumphs, passion, and glory before returning to the setbacks that have left the nation’s favorite sport in limbo.

Football first rolled into Nepali history during the Rana regime, when the distant echoes of British colonial influence could be felt across South Asia. In those days, a handful of ambitious youths journeyed to Indian cities like Delhi, Calcutta, and Bangalore suburbs in search of higher education. They returned home with more than diplomas; they brought with them a spark of a new passion. Among these pioneers were the privileged Thapas and Basnets, whose minds had been shaped by foreign culture and whose feet were now guided by the rhythm of a ball. While figures like Nar Shumsher Rana would later formalize the game, it was the daring footsteps of Narayan Narasingh Rana of Thamel and Chandrajung Thapa that first sent the ball bouncing across Nepali soil. Soon, the streets of Kathmandu seemed to pause whenever a match was underway from the palace courtyards of Thamel to the dusty grounds of Jawalakhel and the open fields of Tudikhel as the ball carried the dreams of a new generation, slowly weaving a football culture that would capture the hearts of a nation for generations to come.

Football in Nepal took shape in 1934, when sides like Mahabir-11, NRT-11, and Jawalakhel-11 first laced their boots, with Jawalakhel lifting the inaugural institutional trophy under Nar Shumsher. The game was banned at times, yet it thrived in palace courtyards and on dusty grounds, carried forward by sheer passion. By 1947, even as politics unsettled the nation, the first football committee emerged. King Tribhuvan placed his name on the Tribhuvan Challenge Shield at Tudikhel, while the Ram Janaki Cup brought early structure. After the end of the Rana regime in 1951, Nepal got its Football Federation, ANFA (All Nepal Football Association), and the Prajatantra era under King Tribhuvan gave football new life.

The Ram Janaki Cup was reshaped into the Martyr’s Memorial League, Nepal’s first structured division-league system, turning scattered contests into an organized competition. The opening of Dasarath Stadium in 1959 elevated the stage, hosting celebrated clashes like King-11 vs Prime Minister-11. Through the 1960s and 70s, the Mahendra Gold Cup, Nar Trophy, and ANFA Cup drew roaring crowds and deepened football’s hold on the people. Nepal joined FIFA in 1970, hosted its first major international tournament in 1982, and steadily expanded into youth and women’s football, transforming street games into a national passion woven into everyday life.

Yet glory has never come without scars. On 12 March 1988, Dasarath Stadium, once the symbol of pride, turned into a scene of heartbreak. A sudden hailstorm during the Tribhuvan Challenge Shield final sparked panic among 25,000 fans. With the exits locked, a deadly stampede claimed more than 70 lives. The tragedy carved a wound deep into Nepali football, a reminder of the sport’s fierce popularity and the fragility of its infrastructure. Even amid grief, the national team carried hope forward. Nepal’s first steps on the international stage came at the 1982 Asian Games in New Delhi, where YB Ghale etched his name as the nation’s first international goal scorer. Two years later, hosting the 1984 South Asian Games, Nepal struck gold by defeating Bangladesh 4–2 in the final, a moment that became a beacon of pride for a country still finding its place in world football. The 1990s brought another golden spark, as captain Raju Kaji Shakya led Nepal to victory over India in the 1993 South Asian Games, winning on penalties after a 2–2 draw, a triumph still celebrated in Nepali football circles.

Amidst turmoil and uncertainty, one constant stood tall: the Martyr’s Memorial A-Division League, the heartbeat of Nepali football. It gave structure to the domestic game, forged talents who would don the national colors, and kept the dream alive even when the nation faced adversity. Beyond the league, a network of grassroots academies and local tournaments began to bloom, nurturing the next generation of players.

Since its inception in 1954, the Martyr’s Memorial A-Division League has crowned 17 different champions across 45 editions, reflecting the unpredictable and competitive spirit of Nepali football. Early years saw clubs like Mahabir, Police Force, and New Road Team etch their names into history, while the 1970s and 80s were dominated by Ranipokhari Corner Team and the rise of Sankata Boys Club. The mid-1980s ushered in a new powerhouse, Manang Marshyangdi Club, which went on to become the league’s most decorated side with eight titles, shaping modern domestic football. Despite its long history, the league was not held in several periods—1958–60, 1964–66, 1988, 1990–94, 1996, 1999, 2001–02, 2007–09, 2011–12, 2014–15, and 2020–21—due to political instability, the Maoist insurgency, administrative conflicts, natural disasters, and the COVID-19 pandemic.

Alongside the historic A-Division League, Nepal also witnessed the rise of the National League (later known as the Red Bull National League), a club-level competition where champions earned the chance to compete on the continental stage, previously in the AFC President’s Cup and now the AFC Cup. To broaden participation, the franchise-based Nepal Super League was introduced for two seasons, in 2011–12 and 2015, bringing a professional and commercial flavor to Nepali football. However, the April 2015 earthquake halted the 2015 season, pausing professional football nationwide and delaying competitive play until the 2018–19 edition of the Martyr’s Memorial A-Division League. Despite these interruptions, both leagues have played a crucial role in developing talent, providing clubs with a platform to shine, and keeping the spirit of Nepali football alive. Later decades saw the emergence of challengers like Three Star Club, Nepal Police Club, and Machhindra FC, while new champions such as Church Boys United lifted the trophy in 2023, marking the continuing evolution of the league.

For over 800 days, Nepali football has been in limbo, its future uncertain and its heartbeat faint, as the Division League, once the lifeblood of domestic football, remains dormant. ANFA cites financial hurdles and infrastructure challenges for the delays, but beneath the surface, mismanagement, the absence of a structured football calendar, and constant internal conflicts have left the sport adrift. Dashrath Stadium, once a stage of dreams, now tells a story of neglect, with flooded pitches, flickering lights, and glaring safety hazards, while the AFC’s early concerns about the pitch feel minor compared to the broader decay gripping the nation’s premier venue. Clubs invest heavily in strategy and talent, yet without a regular calendar, their efforts risk unraveling, forcing many players to migrate abroad, chasing survival over glory on meager salaries. Frequent sackings and conflicts involving national team coaches further reflect ANFA’s unstable management, while rumors persist that administrators and members struggle with basic technology, unable even to manage simple emails.

Instability in Nepali football is not new; even under the legendary player-administrator Ganesh Thapa, structural cracks were visible, and the match-fixing scandal shattered trust. Subsequent administrations have failed to restore order, leaving the entire football ecosystem teetering on the edge of a once-thriving world now caught in the shadow of neglect, waiting for a spark to reignite its lost glory. Administrators’ apparent lack of qualification, combined with internal disputes, continue to erode the organization, while the Cricket Association of Nepal surges ahead with effective management, inadvertently raising moral and ethical pressure on ANFA as football lags behind its rising sporting rival. If the current trajectory continues, Nepali football risks fading into obscurity, much like football has in parts of India, where cricket’s dominance overshadowed the sport, emphasizing the urgent need for accountability, modernization, and strategic vision to reclaim even a fraction of its former prestige.